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.  v  .  ••'•  •  ••; '  . 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


OFFICE  COPY. 

No. N.  E.. 

PUBLISHED, 


This  Volume  must  not  be  taken  from  file. 


OUT  or  TOWN  PLACES 


BY  DON?.   G.   MITCHELL 


OUT-OF-TOWN 
PLACES: 


WITH 


HINTS  FOR  THEIR  IMPROVEMENT 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OP 
"WET  DAYS  AT  EDGEWOOD" 


[A  RE-ISSUE  OF  "RURAL  STUDIES"] 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNERS  SONS 
1888 


COPYRIGHT,  1867, 

BY  DONALD  G.  MITCHELL 


TttOWS 

PRINTING  »ND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 
NEW  VORK. 


PREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE. 


I  HAVE  changed  the  name  of  this  volume,  —  not  with 
the  view  of  deceiving  anybody,  or  of  putting  a  new 
blazon  upon  old  wares,  —  but  because  I  wish  to  express, 
so  far  as  I  can,  in  the  title,  the  very  practical  aim  of  the 
book,  and  to  dispossess  the  reader  at  the  start  of  any 
notion  that  it  is  made  up  by  a  mere  literary  grouping  of 
ruralities. 

In  the  Preface  of  1867  —  which  was  the  date  of  its  first 
issue  —  I  said,  —  "  Its  aim  is  to  stimulate  those  who  live 
in  the  country,  or  who  love  the  country,  to  a  fuller  and 
wider  range  of  thinking  about  the  means  of  making  their 
homes  enjoyable  —  rather  than  to  lay  down  any  definite 
rules  by  which  this  may  be  accomplished ;  and  I  have  es- 
pecially sought  to  excite  the  ambition  of  those  holders  of 
humble  estates,  who  believe  that  nothing  can  be  done  in 
the  way  of  adornment  of  country  property,  except  under 
the  eye  of  accomplished  gardeners.  The  book  is  a  tract 


iv  PREFATORY  NOTE. 

for  homeliness ;  and  I  hope  it  may  make  country  prose- 
lytes." 

I  have  still  faith  that  the  simplicities  it  teaches,  and  its 
common-sense  suggestions,  may  have  good  influence  — 
notwithstanding  the  great  aesthetic  gains  which  have  been 
made  during  the  last  fifteen  years,  in  all  that  relates  to 
the  equipment  of  suburban  homes  :  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  the  intelligent  and  tasteful  interpretation  of  the  text 
which  has  been  made  by  the  drawings  of  my  friend  Mr. 
E.  C.  Gardner,  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  will  give  wholly  new 
force  and  piquancy  to  the  suggestions  I  have  urged. 

D.  G.  M. 

EDGEWOOD,  April,  1884. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

7.  AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM, i 

//.  ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND. 

POMOLOGISTS  AND  COMMON  PEOPLE,  .  .  25 
LACKLAND  MAKES  A  BEGINNING,  .  .  .35 
LACKLAND'S  HOUSE-PLANS,  ....  44 

LACKLAND' s  GARDENER, 54 

A  PIG  AND  A  Cow, 62 

ON  GATEWAYS, 73 

GATEWAYS  AND  RURAL  CARPENTRY,  .  .  81 
VILLAGE  AND  COUNTRY  ROAD-SIDE,  .  .  .88 

///.    WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  • 

TALK  ABOUT  PORCHES, 99 

ON  NOT  DOING  ALL  AT  ONCE,  ....   109 

PLOUGHING  AND  DRILLED  CROPS,  .        .        .117 
ROADS  AND  SHADE,    ......  124 

ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  HEDGING,       .        .       129 

VILLAGE  GREENS, 139 

RAILWAY  GARDENING 147 

LANDSCAPE  TREATMENT  OF  RAILWAYS,     .        .153 


vi  CONTENTS. 

IV.  LAYING  OUT  OF  GROUNDS. 

LANDSCAPE  GARDENING,     .....  163 

FARM  LANDSCAPE, 168 

LANDS  NOT  FARMED, 174 

CITY  AND  TOWN  PARKS,         ....  184 

PLACE  FOR  PARKS, 189 

EQUIPMENT  OF  PUBLIC  GARDENS,  .        .        .  194 

BURYING-GROUNDS, 200 

V.  MR.    URBAN  AND  A    COUNTRY  HOUSE. 

REAL  ESTATE  PURCHASE,        ....  209 
COST  AND  RETURNS  OF  FIFTY  ACRES,       .        .214 

QUESTION  OF  LOCALITIES,      ....  226 

TESTIMONY  OF  EXPERTS, 231 

RESULTS  OF  INQUIRY, 244 

HOUSES  AND  REPAIRS, 250 

SITE  AND  MATERIAL, 257 

FORM  AND  COLOR, 266 

MR.  URBAN' s  PURCHASE,         ....  274 

A  SUNNY  HOUSE, 286 

CONCLUSION, 292 


I. 

AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM. 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM. 

SOME  twenty  odd  years  ago — more  or  less — I 
chanced  to  be  the  owner  of  a  wild,  unkempt, 
slatternly  farm,  of  three  or  four  hundred  acres  in 
extent,  amid  the  rocky  fastnesses  of  eastern  Connec- 
ticut. The  township  in  which  it  lay  was  a  scattered 
wilderness  of  a  settlement,  lying  along  the  Hartford 
and  New  London  turnpike.  There  was  a  toll-gate  (I 
remember  that) ;  and  I  have  a  fancy  that  the  toll-gath- 
erer was  a  sallow-faced  shoemaker  with  club-feet,  who 
sometimes  made  his  appearance  with  a  waxed-end  in 
his  mouth,  and  a  flat-headed  hammer  in  his  hand. 
He  hardly  wields  the  hammer  any  more ;  and  his  last 
waxed-end  must  long  ago  have  been  drawn  tight,  and 
clipped  away. 

There  was  a  wild  common  over  which  the  Novem- 
ber winds  swept  with  a  pestilent  force,  with  nothing 
to  break  them,  except  a  pair  of  twin  churches.    One 
1 


2  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

of  these  was  Congregational — severely  doric,  with 
square-headed  windows,  painted  columns,  and  a  cupola 
for  ornamentation.  The  other  was  Episcopal,  with 
sharp-headed  windows,  and  three  or  four  crazy-look- 
ing turrets ;  but  the  paint  upon  this  latter  was  nearly 
worn  away  by  the  storm-gusts  that  beat  unbroken 
over  the  Common.  I  am  compelled  to  say  too  that 
the  services  were  only  occasional  in  this  gothic  taber- 
nacle ;  and  regret  exceedingly  to  add  that,  after  a 
fitful  and  spasmodic  life,  the  Episcopal  society  which 
maintained  nominal  ownership  of  this  turreted  temple 
made  over  its  interest  and  debts  to  certain  worldly 
parties,  and  the  sharp-headed  windows  now  shed  their 
light  upon  "  town  meetings,"  and  the  late  church  is 
abased  to  the  uses  of  a  town  hall.  It  must  be  said, 
that  the  rural  residents  of  New  England  have  no 
large  or  growing  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  Litany. 
They  like  long  sermons  and  a  "  talking  out "  in 
prayer.  You  or  I  may  feel  differently  ;  but  the  men 
and  women  of  those  retired  districts,  where  books 
and  newspapers  rarely  come,  want  to  hear  on  a  Sun- 
day what  the  parson  will  say — not  only  in  his  sermon, 
but  in  his  invocations. 

The  doric  meeting-house,  however,  gloried  in  a 
thick,  white  sheen  of  paint.  The  blinds  were  green 
to  a  fault.  No  exterior  mark  of  prosperity  seemed 
wanting  but  a  flanking  line  of  horse-sheds,  the  lack 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM,  3 

of  which  upon  that  bare  waste  was  a  terrible  source 
of  discomfort  to  the  poor  brutes  who,  after  a  drive 
of  three,  four,  or  even  five  miles,  stood  shivering  in 
the  December  weather  under  the  lee  of  the  fences. 
A  good,  kind  parson,  who  presided  over  the  parish 
in  the  days  of  which  I  speak,  was  earnest  in  his  appeals 
for  shelter  to  the  poor  brutes,  (my  little  bay  mare 
often  shivering  among  them,)  but  the  charitable  en- 
thusiasm of  the  good  minister  counted  for  nothing ; 
and  to  this  day,  as  I  am  credibly  informed,  the  "  con- 
templated sheds  "  remain  unbuilt. 

There  was  a  tavern,  lying  to  the  northward,  along 
the  turnpike  ;  and  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  tavern- 
keeper  was  a  deacon — a  staid  man,  of  course,  who 
kept  an  orderly  house,  and  whose  daughters,  in  flam- 
boyant ribbons,  were  among  the  belles  of  the  parish. 
The  father  was,  I  believe,  a  most  worthy  man ;  but 
his  rusty  brown  wig  showed  badly  beside  the  great 
flock  of  golden  curls  that  flanked  him  in  his  meeting- 
house pew.  His  boys  were  absentees,  and  addicted 
to  horse-trading. 

There  was  a  cooper's  shop  upon  the  sprawling 
street,  in  which  a  great  clatter  and  bang  were  kept 
up  every  work-day  upon  shad-barrels.  There  was 
a  carriage-repairing  shop ;  and  another  way-side 
smithy,  where  time  and  time  again,  I  have  watched 
the  heaving  of  the  bellows,  and  the  flying  of  the 


4  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

sparks,  as  the  grimy  workman  pounded  out  the  iron 
shoes,  for  which  "  Debby  "  stood  patiently  in  waiting. 

There  was  a  green  country  store,  where  "  domes- 
tics "  were  sold,  and  West  India  sugars,  and  hoes — 
"  Ames'  best  cast-steel " — and,  I  greatly  fear,  occa- 
sional tipple.  It  was  burned  down  long  ago ;  ten 
years  after,  I  saw  the  yawning,  ragged  cellar,  and  a 
giant  growth  of  stramonium  springing  from  the  door- 
step. 

There  was  also  somewhere  along  this  dreary  street 
a  manufactory  of  musical  instruments — whether  of 
harps  or  organs  I  cannot  justly  say  ;  but  I  have  been 
given  to  understand  that  the  manufactory  has  since, 
under  zealous  and  spirited  management,  grown  into  a 
great  musical  institute,  where  young  misses  in  white 
(with  blue  sashes)  woo  the  muses  with  a  thundering 
success.  But  more  distinctly  than  the  manufactory 
— whatever  it  may  have  been — I  remember  a  little 
brook,  that  stole  away  in  the  meadows  thereabout 
under  clumps  of  alder,  under  lines  of  willows,  under 
plank  bridgelets,  and  how,  on  many  a  May  day  my 
line  drifted  on  into  dark  pools,  until  some  swift  strike 
gave  warning  of  a  venturesome,  golden-spotted  swim- 
mer that  presently  tossed  and  flounced  in  my  creel. 
I  profess  no  great  love  for  music — no  knowledge  of 
it  even ;  but  the  whizzing  of  a  reel  which  a  pound 
trout  will  make  at  the  end  of  thirty  feet  of  taper  line 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  5 

is  to  me  very  charming — charming  in  those  old  days 
when  the  woods  and  meadows  were  new,  and  charm- 
ing now  when  the  woods  and  the  meadows  are  old. 
Well,  well,  I  began  to  tell  the  story  of  a  farm,  and 
here  I  am  idling  along  the  borders  of  a  brook  ! 

The  toll-gate,  the  churches,  the  tayern,  the  store 
lay  strewn  along  a  high-road,  three  miles  away  from 
the  valley-farm,  of  which  in  those  days  I  was  busy 
occupant.  And  yet  so  bare  of  trees  was  the  interval, 
that  from  many  a  nook  under  the  coppices  of  the 
pasture-land  I  could  see  the  twin  churches,  the  tavern, 
and,  with  a  glass,  detect  even  a  stray  cow,  or  the  lum- 
bering coach  which  from  time  to  time  wended  along 
the  high-road  of  the  village. 

The  farm  was  suitably  divided  (as  the  old  adver- 
tisements were  wont  to  say)  into  tillage,  meadow,  and 
pasture-lands.  This  distribution  of  parts  implied  that 
the  meadows  would  furnish  enough  hay  in  ordinary 
seasons  for  the  winter's  keep  of  such  and  so  many 
animals,  as  the  pastures  carried  in  good  condition 
through  the  summer ;  and  the  arable  land  was  sup- 
posed equal  to  the  growth  of  such  grain  and  vege- 
tables as  would  suffice  for  man  and  beast  throughout 
the  year.  It  was  an  old,  lazy  reckoning  of  capabili- 
ties, which  implied  little  or  no  progress,  and  which 
took  no  account  of  any  systematic  rotation.  I  never 
see  a  farm  advertised  under  the  formula  I  have  named 


6  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

— suitably  divided  into  tillage,  mowing,  and  pasture- 
land — but  I  feel  sure  that  the  advertiser  is  a  respect- 
able, old-fashioned  gentleman,  who  keeps  a  long-tailed 
black  coat  for  Sundays  and  training-days,  and  who 
has  inherited  his  agricultural  opinions  from  a  very 
dull  and  stiff-necked  ancestry.  Such  announcements 
— and  they  are  to  be  seen  not  unfrequently  in  the 
journals — impress  me  very  much  as  the  advertise- 
ment of  a  desirable  dwelling  might  do — "  suitably 
divided  into  cooking,  eating,  and  sleeping  quarters." 

There  are,  to  be  sure,  rough  pasture-lands  strewn 
with  rocks,  or  full  of  startling  inequalities  of  surface, 
which  must  retain  for  an  indefinite  period  their  office 
for  simple  grazing  purposes ;  but,  with  rare  excep- 
tions, there  are  not  anywhere  in  the  northeastern 
States  any  considerable  stretches  of  meadow  capable 
of  growing  the  better  English  grasses,  which  are  not 
susceptible  of  improvement  under  occasional  tillage. 
Draining,  indeed,  may  be  first  needed,  and  a  scarify- 
ing with  the  harrow,  to  root  out  the  old  mosses  and 
foul  growth  ;  but  after  this,  a  clean  lift  of  the  plow 
and  judicious  dressing  will  work  wonders. 

But,  to  return,  (for  I  wish  to  make  the  picture  of 
an  old-fashioned  farm  complete,)  there  were  mossy 
meadows  lying  along  the  borders  of  a  great  romping 
millstream,  which  had  been  mown  for  forty  years 
without  intermission ;  here  and  there,  where  these 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  7 

meadows  lifted  into  gravelly  mounds,  patches  of  plow- 
land  had  been  taken  up  at  intervals  of  five  or  eight 
years,  and  by  dint  of  heavy,  laborious  cartage  of  the 
scant  manures  from  the  barnyard,  over  the  interven- 
ing meadow  "  swales ",  had  shown  their  periodic 
growth  of  corn  or  potatoes,  these  followed  by  oats — 
more  or  less  rank  as  the  season  was  wet  or  dry — and 
again,  on  the  following  year  by  clover,  which  in  its 
turn  was  succeeded  by  red-top  and  timothy — upon 
which  the  wild  meadow-growth  steadily  encroached. 
There  was,  of  course,  the  "barn-lot,"  of  which  all 
old  farmers  boasted,  maintained  in  a  certain  degree 
of  foodful  succulence  and  luxuriant  fertility  by  reason 
of  the  leakage  and  waste  which  it  inevitably  secured, 
and  whose  richness  was  due  rather  to  lack  of  care 
than  to  skilL  There  were  intervals  too  of  meadow 
upland,  through  which  some  little  rivulet  from  the 
pasture  hill-side  meandered  on  its  way  to  the  larger 
brook  of  the  lowland,  and  which  were  kept  in  verdant 
wealth  (no  thanks  to  any  human  manager)  by  the 
refreshing  influences  of  the  rivulets  alone.  Four  or 
five  such  straggling  brooklets  murmured  down  from 
the  pasture  high-lands,  and  a  Devonshire  farmer 
would  have  given  to  each  one  a  wide  and  wealth-giv- 
ing distribution  over  acres  and  acres  of  the  slanting 
meadows.  But  there  was  nothing  of  this.  They 
watered  their  little  rod-wide  margin  of  succulent 


8  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

grasses,  then  dropped  away  into  some  marshy  flat, 
where  the  flags  and  rushes  grew  rampantly,  until  these 
too  gave  place  to  alders,  poison  sumacs,  soft  maples 
and  black-ash  trees. 

The  fences  were  as  motley  as  the  militiamen's 
coats  on  a  first  Monday  of  May.  From  time  to  time 
some  previous  tenant  or  owner  had  devoted  "  fall 
leisure  "  to  the  erection  of  a  wall — mostly  in  continua- 
tion of  a  great  range  of  barrier  which  separated  the 
hill-lands  from  the  flat.  In  this  erection  each  owner's 
views  of  economy  (no  other  views  being  recognized) 
had  taken  wide  divergence.  Thus,  one  had  given  a 
circular  sweep  to  his  trail,  for  the  sake  of  inclosing 
some  tempting  smooth  spot  upon  the  lowest  slope  of 
the  hills  ;  another  had  made  a  flanking  movement  in 
the  other  direction,  for  the  sake  of  excluding  some 
unfortunate  little  group  of  innocent  rocks.  But  the 
sinners  and  the  well-doers,  on  the  score  of  the  wall- 
ing, must  have  long  before  gone  to  their  account, 
since  the  stones  were  all  mossy,  and  the  frequent  gaps 
had  been  blocked  up  by  lopping  over  some  vigorous 
young  hickory  or  chestnut  which  had  started  from 
the  base  of  the  wall. 

But  even  this  rustic  device  had  not  given  full 
security,  for  with  settlements  and  the  "  bulging " 
under  frosts,  this  great  line  of  barrier  was  no  proof 
against  the  clambering  propensities  of  the  sheep ;  and 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  9 

the  whole  line  of  fence  had  been  topped  with  long 
poles,  kept  in  their  places  by  cross  stakes  firmly 
driven  into  the  ground  and  sustaining  the  "  riders  " 
at  the  point  of  intersection.  To  complete  the  fence 
picture,  I  have  to  add  to  those  half-lopped  hickories  in 
the  gaps — to  those  bulging  tumors  of  stone — to  those 
gaunt  over-riding  poles — a  great  array  of  blackberry 
briers,  of  elders,  of  dog-willows,  of  dried  stems  of 
golden-rod,  of  raspberries,  and  of  pretentious  wild- 
cherries.  Still  further,  I  must  mark  down  a  great 
sprawling  array  of  the  scattered  wall,  in  some  half- 
dozen  spots,  where  adventurous  hunters  had  made  a 
mining  foray  after  some  unfortunate  woodchuck  or 
rabbit. 

So  much  for  the  average  New  England  walling  in 
retired  districts  twenty  years  ago.  Is  it  much  better 
now  ?  As  for  the  wooden  fencing,  there  stretched 
across  the  meadow  by  the  road  a  staggering  line  of 
"  posts  and  rails  " — one  post  veering  southward  the 
next  veering  northward — a  wholly  frightful  line, 
which  was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  file  of  tipsy 
soldiers  making  vain  efforts  to  keep  "  eyes  right."  In 
the  woodlands  and  upon  the  borders  of  the  farm, 
were  old,  lichen-covered  Virginia  fences,  sinking  rail 
by  rail  into  the  earth ;  luxuriant  young  trees  were 
shooting  up  in  the  angles,  brambles  were  overgrow- 
ing them,  and  poisonous  vines — the  Bhus  Toxicoden- 
1* 


io  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

dron  among  them  (which  country  people  call  mer- 
cury, ivy,  and  I  know  not  what  names  beside) — and 
this  entire  range  of  exterior  fence  was  gone  over  each 
springtime — April  being  the  usual  month — and  made 
effective,  by  lopping  upon  it  such  lusty  growth  as 
may  have  sprung  up  the  season  past.  It  is  afflictive 
to  think  what  waste  of  natural  resources  is  committed 
in  this  way  every  year  by  the  scrubby  farmers  of  New 
England. 

The  stock  equipment  of  this  farm  of  nearly  four 
hundred  acres,  consisted  of  twelve  cows,  some  six 
head  of  young  stock,  two  yoke  of  oxen,  a  pair  of 
horses,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  sheep.  I  blush  even 
now  as  I  write  down  the  tale  of  such  poor  equipment 
for  a  farm  which  counted  at  least  two  hundred  and 
seventy  acres  of  open  land — the  residue  being  wood, 
or  impenetrable  swamp.  And  it  is  still  more  melan- 
choly to  reflect  that  the  portion  of  the  land  which 
aided  most  in  the  sustenance  of  this  meagre  stock, 
was  that  which  was  most  nearly  in  a  state  of  nature. 
I  speak  of  those  newly  cleared  pasture-lands  from 
which  the  wood  had  been  removed  within  ten  years. 
In  giving  this  description  of  a  farm  of  twenty  years 
ago,  I  feel  sure  that  I  am  describing  the  available 
surface  of  a  thousand  farms  in  N"ew  England  to-day. 
We  boast  indeed  of  our  thrift  and  enterprise,  but 
these  do  not  work  in  the  direction  of  land  culture — 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  \\ 

at  least  not  in  the  way  of  that  liberal  and  generous 
culture  which  insures  the  largest  product.  I  doubt 
greatly  if  there  be  any  people  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  equally  intelligent,  who  farm  so  poorly  as  the 
men  of  New  England ;  and  there  are  tens  of  thou- 
sands less  intelligent  who  manage  their  lands  infinitely 
better.  I  do  not  quite  understand  why  the  American 
character,  which  has  shown  such  wonderful  aptitude 
for  thrift  in  other  directions,  should  have  shown  so 
little  in  the  direction  of  agriculture.  I  feel  quite  con- 
fident that  seven  out  of  ten  of  the  most  accomplished 
and  successful  nurserymen,  gardeners,  and  farmers  in 
the  country,  are  of  foreign  birth,  or  of  foreign  parent- 
age. Within  the  limits  of  my  own  experience,  I  find 
it  infinitely  more  difficult  to  secure  a  good  American 
farmer,  than  to  secure  a  good  Scotch  or  even  an  Irish 
one.  And  I  observe  with  not  a  little  shame,  that 
while  the  American  is  disposed  to  make  up  the  tale 
of  his  profits  by  sharp  bargains,  the  Scotch  are  as 
much  disposed  to  make  it  up  by  liberal  treatment  of 
the  land.  Why  is  this  ?  The  American  is  not  illib- 
eral by  nature ;  a  thousand  proofs  lie  to  the  contrary ; 
but  by  an  unfortunate  traditional  belief  he  is  disposed 
to  count  the  land  only  a  rigorous  step-dame  from 
which  all  possible  benefit  is  to  be  wrested,  and  the 
least  possible  return  made. 

Is  the  Congressional  grant  for  agricultural  colleges 


12  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

to  work  a  change  in  this  belief  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  hold  the  great  mass  of  the  land  under  control  ? 
Not  surely  until  the  newly  started  colleges  shall  have 
made  some  more  vigorous  practical  demonstration  than 
they  have  made  thus  far.  The  bearings  of  science 
upon  agriculture  were  well  taught  previously  under 
the  wing  of  the  established  universities ;  what  the 
public  had  reason  to  hope  from  the  new  endowment 
was  such  practical  exhibit  of  the  economic  value  of  a 
thorough  system  in  tillage  and  management,  as  should 
carry  conviction  to  the  popular  mind.  As  yet  we 
wait  in  vain.  Looking  at  results  thus  far,  I  am 
strongly  of  the  opinion  that  a  few  thousands  devoted 
to  the  gratuitous  distribution  of  one  or  two  sterling 
agricultural  newspapers  would  have  worked  more 
good  to  the  farming  interests  of  the  community,  than 
the  millions  which  have  been  committed  to  the  wis- 
dom of  the  several  State  legislatures.  I  have  no  hope 
that  these  views  will  meet  the  concurrence  of  those 
who  have  present  control  of  the  funds ;  nor  do  I 
mean  to  express  a  doubt  of  the  honesty  and  good 
intentions  of  those  who  have  become  the  supervisors 
of  this  great  trust ;  but  I  am  strongly  of  the  assurance 
that  the  common  sense  of  the  country  is  largely  dis- 
posed to  ask  of  the  scientific  gentlemen  who  have 
been  so  largely  the  recipients  of  this  congressional 
bounty  some  practical  demonstration  upon  the  land, 
of  the  faith  they  hold  and  teach. 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  13 

I  coine  back  to  the  old  farm,  with  its  meagre 
stock  and  its  wide  acres.  Of  course  there  was  some- 
thing to  be  sold.  Farmers  never  get  on  without  that. 
First  of  all,  came  the  "  veals  " — selling  in  that  day 
for  some  two  cents  a  pound,  live  weight.  (They  now 
sell  in  the  New  York  market  for  ten.)  This  bridged 
over  the  spring  costs,  until  the  butter  came  from  the 
first  growth  of  the  pastures. 

— How  well  I  remember  tossing  myself  from  bed 
at  an  hour  before  sunrise  (Seth  by  previous  orders 
having  the  horse  and  wagon  ready),  and  by  candle- 
light seeing  to  the  packing  of  the  spring  butter — the 
firkins  being  enwrapped  in  dewy  grass,  fresh  cut — 
and  then  setting  forth  upon  the  long  drive  (twelve 
miles)  to  the  nearest  market  town.  What  a  drive  it 
was !  Five  miles  on,  I  saw  the  early  people  stirring 
and  staring  at  me,  as  they  washed  their  faces  in  the 
basin  at  the  well.  Then  came  woods,  and  silence,  but 
a  strange  odorous  freshness  in  the  air — possibly  some 
near  coal-pit  gave  its  kreosotic  fumes,  not  unpleasant ; 
some  owl,  in  the  swamps  I  passed,  lifted  its  melancholy 
hoot ;  further  on  I  saw  some  early  riser  driving  his 
cows  to  pasture  ;  still  further  I  caught  sight  of  chil- 
dren at  play  before  some  farm-house  door,  and  the 
sun  being  fairly  risen,  I  knew  their  breakfasts  were 
waiting  them  within. 

After  this,  I  passed  occasional  teams  upon  the 


14  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

road,  and  gave  a  "  good  morning "  to  the  drivers. 
Then  came  the  toll-gate :  I  wondered  if  the  day's 
profits  would  be  equal  to  the  toll  ?  After  this  came 
the  milk  wagons  whisking  by  me,  and  I  envied  them 
their  short  rounds ;  at  last  (the  sun  being  now  two 
hours  high)  came  sight  of  the  market  town — city,  I 
should  say;  for  the  legislature  had  given  it  long 
before  the  benefit  of  the  title ;  and  on  the  score  of 
church  spires,  and  taverns,  and  shops,  and  news- 
papers, and  wickedness,  it  deserved  the  name. 

I  wish  I  could  catch  sight  once  more  of  the  old 
gentleman  (a  good  grocer  as  the  times  went)  who 
plunged  his  thumb-nails  into  my  golden  rolls  of  but- 
ter, and  said :  "  We're  buying  pooty  fair  butter  at 
twelve  and  a  half  cents,  but  seein'  as  it's  you,  we'll 
say  thirteen  cents  a  pound  for  this  ;"  and  he  cleaned 
his  thumb-nail  upon  the  breech  of  his  trowsers. 

I  am  not  romancing  here,  I  am  only  telling  a 
plain,  straightforward  story  of  my  advent,  some 
twenty  years  ago,  upon  a  summer's  morning  into  the 
city  of  !N" — .  I  recall  now  vividly  the  detestably 
narrow  and  muddy  streets — the  poor  horse,  (I  had 
bought  it  of  the  son  of  our  deacon,)  wheezing  with 
his  twelve-mile  drive — my  own  empty  faint  stomach 
— the  glimpses  of  the  beautiful  river  between  the 
hills — and  the  golden  butter  which  I  must  needs  sell 
to  my  friend  the  grocer  at  thirteen  cents.  I  hope  he 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  15 

had  never  any  qualms  of  conscience  ;  but  it  is  a  faint 
hope  to  entertain.  I  knew  a  single  naively  honest 
one  ;  but  to  him  I  never  offered  anything  for  sale.  I 
feared  he  might  succumb  to  that  temptation. 

After  the  butter,  (counting  some  forty  odd  pounds 
in  weight  per  week,)  the  next  most  important  sale  was 
that  of  the  lambs  and  wool.  The  lambs  counted  ordi- 
narily— leaving  out  the  losses  of  the  newly  dropped 
ones,  by  crows  *  and  foxes — some  hundred  or  more. 
And  nice  lambs  they  were ;  far  better  than  the  half  I 
find  in  the  markets  to-day.  Nothing  puts  sweeter  and 
more  delicate  flesh  upon  young  lambs  than  that  luxu- 
riant growth  of  herbage  which  springs  from  freshly 
cleared  high-lying  wood-lands.  In  piquancy  and  rich- 
ness, it  is  as  much  beyond  the  lambs  of  stall-fed 
sheep,  as  the  racy  mutton  of  the  Dartmoors  is  beyond 
the  turnip-fatted  wethers  of  the  downs  of  Hampshire. 
And  yet  these  lambs  were  delivered  to  the  butcher 
at  an  ignoble  price ;  I  think  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  head 
was  all  that  could  be  secured  for  animals  which  in 

*  Enthusiastic  bird-lovers  will  learn,  may  be  with  surprise,  that 
crows  are  capable  of  this  mischief,  but  it  is  even  true.  Their  vil- 
lainous method  is  to  pluck  out  the  eyes  of  the  newly  born  innocents, 
and  then  leave  their  prey  until  death  and  putrefaction  shall  have 
ripened  it  to  their  taste.  Only  extreme  hunger,  however,  will  drive 
the  crow  to  such  game.  I  think  I  have  never  felt  more  murderously 
inclined  than  when  I  have  seen  upon  a  bleak  day  of  April  one  of 
these  black  harpies  perched  upon  the  head  of  its  faintly  struggling 
victim,  and  deliberately  plucking  away  the  eyes  from  the  socket. 


1 6  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  city  would  bring  to-day  nearly  five  dollars.  The 
wool  was  bought  up  by  speculators  in  that  time,  and 
the  speculators  were  not  extravagant.  I  remember 
very  well  driving  off  upon  a  summer's  afternoon, 
mounted  upon  twelve  great  sacks  of  fleeces,  and  being 
rather  proud  of  my  receipts,  at  the  rate  of  twenty- 
eight  cents  per  pound.  (The  same  wool  would  have 
brought  two  years  since  eighty  cents  per  pound.) 

After  we  disposed  of  the  butter  and  the  wool,  and 
during  the  late  autumn  months,  came  the  cartage  of 
wood — some  eight  miles — to  a  port  upon  the  river,  at 
which  four  dollars  per  cord  was  paid  for  good  oak 
wood,  and  five  for  hickory.  At  present  rates  of 
labor,  these  are  sums  which  would  not  pay  for  the 
cutting  and  cartage. 

I  must  not  forget  the  swine — two  or  three  vener- 
able porkers,  and  in  an  adjoining  pen  a  brood  of 
young  shoats — that  would  equip  themselves  in  great 
layers  of  fat,  from  the  whey  during  the  hot  months, 
and  the  yellow  ears  of  corn  with  the  first  harvesting 
of  October.  Day  after  day,  through  May,  through 
June,  came  the  unwearied  round  of 'milking,  of  driv- 
ing to  pasture,  of  plowing,  of  planting ;  day  after  day 
the  sun  beat  hotter  on  the  meadows,  on  the  plow- 
land,  on  the  reeking  sty ;  day  after  day  the  buds 
unfolded — the  pink  of  orchards  hung  in  flowery  sheets 
over  the  scattered  apple  trees ;  the  dogwood  threw 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  17 

out  its  snowy  burden  of  blossoms  from  the  edges  of 
the  wood ;  the  oaks  showed  their  velvety  tufts,  and 
with  midsummer  there  was  a  world  of  green  and  of 
silence — broken  only  by  an  occasional "  Gee,  Bright ! " 
of  the  teamster,  or  the  cluck  of  a  matronly  hen,  or 
hum  of  bees,  or  the  murmur  of  the  brook.  All  this 
inviting  to  a  very  dreamy  indolence,  which,  I  must 
confess,  was  somehow  vastly  enjoyable. 

Nothing  to  see  ?  Lo,  the  play  of  light  and  shade 
over  the  distant  hills,  or  the  wind,  making  tossed  and 
streaming  wavelets  on  the  rye.  Nothing  to  hear  ? 
Wait  a  moment  and  you  shall  listen  to  the  bursting 
melodious  roundelay  of  the  merriest  singer  upon 
earth — the  black  and  white  coated  Bob-o'-Lincoln,  as 
he  rises  on  easy  wing,  floats  in  the  sunshine,  and 
overflows  with  song,  then  sinks,  as  if  exhausted  by 
his  brilliant  solo,  to  some  swaying  twig  of  the  alder 
bushes.  Nothing  to  hope  ?  The  maize  leaves  through 
all  their  close  serried  ranks  are  rustling  with  the 
promise  of  golden  corn.  Nothing  to  conquer  ?  There 
are  the  brambles,  the  roughnesses,  the  inequalities, 
the  chill  damp  earth,  the  whole  teeming  swamp-land. 

I  have  tried  to  outline  the  surroundings  and  ap- 
pointments of  many  a  back  country  farmer  of  New 
England  to-day.  I  am  sure  the  drawing  is  true, 
because  it  is  from  the  life.  I  seem  to  see  such  an  one 
now  on  one  of  those  May  mornings  an  hour  before 


1 8  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

sunrise.  It  is  his  market  day,  and  the  old  sorrel  inare 
is  harnessed,  and  tied  to  the  hitch-post.  The  wagon 
is  of  antique  shape,  bulging  out  in  front  and  rear,  and 
with  half-rounded  ends.  The  high-backed  seat  is  sup- 
ported upon  a  V-shaped  framework  of  ash,  and  cov- 
ered over  with  a  yellow  buffalo  skin,  of  which  the 
fur  is  half  worn  away.  An  oaken  firkin  is  presently 
lifted  in,  with  a  white  linen  cloth  shut  down  under 
its  cover,  and  a  corner  of  the  buffalo  turned  over  it 
to  shield  it  from  the  dust  and  the  sunshine.  Then 
comes  a  bushel  basket  of  eggs,  packed  in  rowen  hay ; 
next  the  great  clothes-basket,  covered  with  a  table 
cloth,  in  which  lie  the  two  hind  quarters  of  a  veal 
killed  yesterday,  (the  fore  quarters  being  kept  for 
home  consumption.)  In  the  corner  of  the  wagon  is 
thrust  a  squat  jug — its  stopper  being  a  corn-cob 
wrapped  around  with  newspaper — which  is  to  be 
filled  with  "  Port  o'  reek  "  molasses.  Then,  at  last, 
Jerusha,  the  wife,  in  silver  spectacles,  and  Sunday 
gown,  clambers  in — a  stout  woman,  with  her  waist 
belted  in,  after  a  loose  sausage-like  way — who  has  a 
last  word  for  her  '  darter '  Sally  Ann,  and  then 
another  last  word,  and  who  cautions  Enos  (her  hus- 
band) about  "  turnin'  too  short,"  and  who  asks  if  the 
mare  "  an't  gittin'  kind  o'  frisky  with  the  spring 
weather  ?  " 

So  they  drive  away — Enos  and  Jerushy.     They 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  19 

talk  of  the  new  "  howsen  "  along  the  way ;  they  dis- 
cuss the  last  Sunday's  sermon :  Enos  says,  "  I've 
heerd  that  Hosea  Wood  is  a  cortin'  JYlalviny  Smith." 

"  Don't  b'lieve  a  word  on't,  Enos.  No  sich  a 
thing.  Did  you  put  a  baitin'  for  the  hoss  in  the 
waggin,  Enos  ?  " 

"  No,  I  vum !    I  forgot  it,"  says  Enos. 

"  What  a  plaguey  careless  creeter  you're  a  gittin' 
to  be,  Enos  !  " 

And  so  the  good  worthy  couple  jog  on.  In  town, 
the  jug  is  filled ;  the  stout  matron  peers  through  her 
spectacles  at  tapes,  thread,  needles,  and  a  stout  "  cal- 
iker  "  gown  (fast  colors)  for  Sally  Ann.  Pater-fami- 
lias  sees  to  the  filling  of  the  flat  jug,  he  makes  a  fair 
sale  of  the  two  quarters  of  veal,  he  buys  a  few  "  gard- 
ing  "  seeds,  a  new  rake,  a  scythe  snathe,  and  dickers 
for  a  grindstone — unavailingly.  Two  hours  before 
nightfall,  the  good  couple  jog  homeward  again,  with 
humdrum  quietude. 

It  is  not  such  a  scene  of  domesticity  as  I  ever 
forecast  for  my  own  enjoyment.  I  believed,  and  still 
believe,  that  the  dead  life  upon  the  back  country 
New  England  farms,  is  capable  of  being  stirred  into 
a  live  life.  Over  and  over  I  forecast  the  day  when 
the  inequalities  should  be  smoothed,  the  swamps 
drained,  the  woodlands  cleared  up,  (leaving  only  here 
and  there  some  clump  of  giant  oaks  or  chestnuts 


20  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

about  a  loitering  brooklet,)  the  cattle  quadrupled  in 
number,  the  muck-lands  yielding  their  harvests  to  be 
composted  with  the  concentrated  manures  of  the 
town,  the  very  walls  to  be  straightened  (of  which  a 
beginning  had  been  made),  and  such  stir  and  move- 
ment and  growth  and  cumulative  fertility  as  should 
make  the  neighborhood  open  its  eyes  wide,  and  stare 
to  a  purpose.  I  saw  the  wasting  rivulets  dammed 
and  distributing  their  fertilizing  flow  over  acres  of 
the  side-land ;  I  saw  the  maple  swamps  giving  place 
to  wide  stretches  of  heavy  meadow  ;  I  saw  the  wild 
growth  of  the  pasture-lands  cut  and  piled  and  burned, 
and  all  the  hillsides  glittering  with  a  new  wealth  of 
green. 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  In  the  very  heat  of  the 
endeavor,  there  came  a  flattering  invitation  to  change 
the  scene  of  labor  and  of  observation,  a  single  night 
only  being  given  for  decision.  I  remember  the  night 
as  if  only  this  morning's  sun  broke  it,  and  kindled  it 
into  day.  One  way,  the  brooks,  the  oaks,  the  crops, 
the  memories,  the  homely  hopes,  lured  me ;  the  other 
way,  I  saw  splendid  and  enticing  phantasmagoria — 
London  Bridge,  St.  Paul's,  Prince  Hal,  Fleet  Street, 
Bolt  Court,  Kenilworth,  wild  ruins.  Next  morning 
I  gave  the  key  of  the  corn-crib  to  the  foreman,  and 
bade  the  farm-land  adieu. 

Within  a  month  I  was  strolling  over  the  fields  of 


AN  OLD-STYLE  FARM.  21 

Lancashire;  wondering  at  that  orderly,  systematic 
cultivation  of  which  New  England  had  not  dreamed 
— wondering  at  the  grand  results  of  this  liberal  and 
generous  culture,  and  more  than  ever  disgusted  at  the 
pinched  and  starveling  way  in  which  my  countrymen 
were  cheating  the  land  of  its  opulent  privilege  of  pro- 
duction. 

I  have  written  this  little  descriptive  episode  of 
a  farm-life  in  New  England  to  serve  as  the  background 
for  certain  illustrative  hints  toward  the  amendment 
of  rural  life — whether  in  matters  of  good  husbandry, 
or  of  good  taste  ;  I  have  furthermore  ventured  upon 
certain  homeliness  of  detail  in  these  opening  pages,  to 
show  that  I  may  have  privilege  of  speech. 

There  is  no  manner  of  work  done  upon  a  New 
England  farm  to  which  some  day  I  have  not  put  my 
hand — whether  it  be  chopping  wood,  laying  wall, 
sodding  a  coal-pit,  cradling  oats,  weeding  corn,  shear- 
ing sheep,  or  sowing  turnips.  Therefore,  in  any 
future  references  which  I  may  make  in  the  course  of 
these  papers  to  farm  life,  I  trust  that  my  good  readers 
will  credit  me  with  a  certain  connaissance  de  cause. 


n. 

ADVICE  FOR    LACKLAND. 


AD  VICE  FOR  LACKLAND. 


Pomologists  and  Common  People. 

I  DO  not  know  that  the  Horticulturists  proper  are 
the  best  advisers  of  a  man  who  wishes — as  so  many 
do  in  these  times — to  establish  his  little  home  in  the 
country,  and  to  make  it  charming  with  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  all  manner  of  green  things.  I  think  that 
the  professional  tastes  or  successes  of  one  devoted  to 
Horticulture  might  lead  him  into  a  great  many  extrav- 
agances of  suggestion,  in  the  entertainment  of  which, 
the  plain  country  liver — making  lamentable  failures — 
would  lose  courage  and  faith.  The  Pomologists  may 
indeed  say  that  there  is  no  reason  to  make  failure  if 
their  suggestions  are  followed  to  the  letter,  and  the 
proper  amount  of  care  bestowed.  This  may  be  very 
true  ;  but  they  do  not  enough  consider  that  nine  out 
of  ten  who  love  the  country,  and  its  delights  of  garden 
2 


26  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

or  orchard,  can  never  be  brought  to  that  care  and 
nicety  of  observation,  which,  with  the  devoted  Hor- 
ticulturist, is  a  second  nature. 

Most  men  goto  the  country  to  make  an  easy  thing 
of  it.  If  they  must  commence  study  of  all  the  later 
discoveries  in  vegetable  physiology,  and  keep  a  sharp 
eye  upon  all  new  varieties  of  fruit — lest  they  fall  be- 
hind the  age  ;  and  trench  their  land  every  third  year, 
and  screen  it — may  be — in  order  to  ensure  the  most 
perfect  comminution  of  the  soil,  they  find  themselves 
entering  upon  the  labors  of  a  new  profession,  instead 
of  lightening  the  fatigues  of  an  old  one.  Any 
thorough  practice  of  Horticulture  does  indeed  involve 
all  this ;  but  there  are  plenty  of  outsiders,  who,  with- 
out any  strong  ambition  in  that  direction,  have  yet  a 
very  determined  wish  to  reap  what  pleasures  they  can 
out  of  a  country  life,  by  such  moderate  degree  of 
attention  and  of  labor  as  shall  not  overtax  their  time, 
or  plunge  them  into  the  anxieties  of  a  new  and  en- 
grossing pursuit. 

What  shall  be  done  for  them  ?  To  talk  to  such 
people — and  I  dare  say  scores  of  them  maybe  reading 
these  pages  now — about  the  comparative  vigor  of  a 
vine  grown  from  a  single  eye,  or  a  vine  grown  from  a 
layer,  or  about  the  shades  of  difference  in  flavor  be- 
tween a  Vicomtesse  berry  and  a  Triomphe  de  Gand — 
is  to  talk  Greek  to  them  ;  it  is  a,t>  if  a  druggist  were 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  27 

to  talk  about  the  comparative  influences  of  potash  or 
of  some  simple  styptic  upon  an  irritated  mucous 
membrane,  to  a  man  who  wants  simply — something 
to  cure  a  sore  throat.  It  is  the  aim  of  the  Horticul- 
turist to  push  both  land  and  plants  to  the  last  limit 
of  their  capacity — to  establish  new  varieties — to  pro- 
voke nature  by  incessant  pinchings  into  some  abnor- 
mal development ;  whereas  the  aim  of  the  mass  of 
suburban  residents  is  to  have  a  cheery  array  of  flowers 
— good  fruit  and  plenty  of  it,  at  the  smallest  possible 
cost.  If  indeed  the  latter  have  any  hope  of  winning 
what  they  wish,  by  simple  transfer  of  their  home 
from  city  to  country,  without  any  care  or  cost  what- 
ever, they  are  grossly  mistaken.  If  a  mere,  bald  love 
of  fruit-eating,  without  any  love  for  the  ways  of  its 
production — calls  a  man  to  the  country,  I  would 
strongly  advise  him  to  stay  in  town,  and  buy  fruit 
at  the  city  markets  ;  and  the  man  who  goes  into  the 
country  merely  to  stretch  his  legs,  I  would  as  strongly 
advise  to  do  it  on  Broadway,  or  in  bed.  Nature  is  a 
mistress  that  must  be  wooed  with  a  will ;  and  there 
is  no  mistress  worth  the  having,  that  must  not  be 
wooed  in  the  same  way. 

But  the  distinction  remains  which  I  have  laid 
down  between  the  aims  of  the  Pomologists  and  of  the 
quiet  country  liver.  And  I  am  strongly  inclined  to 
think  that  the  former  are  a  little  too  much  disposed 


28  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

to  sneer  at  the  simple  tastes  of  the  latter.  There  is  a 
sturdy  professional  pride  that  enters  into  this,  for 
something.  I  have  before  now  been  thrown  into  the 
company  of  breeders  of  blooded  stock  who  would  not 
so  much  as  notice  the  best  native  animals — no  matter 
how  tenderly  cared  for,  or  how  assiduously  combed 
down ;  and  yet  a  good  dish  of  cream  most  people 
relish,  even  if  the  name  of  the  cow  is  not  written  in 
the  Herd-books.  Of  course  that  nice  discrimination 
of  tastes  which  enables  a  man  to  detect  the  minute 
shades  of  difference  in  flavors,  is  a  thing  of  growth 
and  long  culture,  and  every  man  is  inclined  to  respect 
what  has  cost  him  long  culture.  But  if  I  smack  my 
lips  over  the  old  Hovey,  or  a  mahogany  colored  Wil- 
son, and  stick  by  them,  I  do  not  know  that  the  zeal- 
ous Pomologist  has  a  right  to  condemn  me  utterly, 
because  I  do  not  root  up  my  strawberry  patches  and 
plant  Russell's  Prolific,  or  the  Jucunda  in  their  place. 
It  is  even  doubtful  if  extreme  cultivation  of  taste  does 
not  do  away  with  a  great  deal  of  that  hearty  gusto 
with  which  most  men  enjoy  good  fruit.  The  man 
who  is  all  the  summer  through  turning  some  little 
tid-bit  of  flavor  upon  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  and  going 
off  into  fits  of  rumination  upon  the  possible  difference 
of  flavor  between  a  Crimson-Cone  when  watered  from 
an  oak  tub,  and  a  Crimson-Cone  when  watered  from 
a  chestnut  tub,  seems  to  me  in  a  fair  way  of  losing  all 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  29 

the  appreciable  and  honest  enjoyment  of  fruit  which 
he  ever  had  in  his  life.  There  lives  about  the  London- 
Dock- Vaults  a  race  of  pimpled-faced  men  whose  pro- 
fessional service  it  is  to  guzzle  small  draughts  of 
Chateau  Margaux  or  of  rare  Port,  which  they  whip 
about  with  their  tongues  and  expend  their  tasting 
faculties  upon,  with  enormous  gravity :  but  who  in 
the  world  supposes  that  these  can  have  the  same 
appreciation  of  an  honest  bumper  of  wine,  which  a 
quiet  Christian  gentleman  has,  who  sits  down  to  his 
dinner  with  a  moderate  glass  of  good,  sound  Bor- 
deaux at  his  elbow  ? 

Outsiders  may,  I  think,  find  a  little  comfort  in 
this,  and  take  courage  in  respect  of  their  old  Hovey 
patches — if  they  will  keep  them  only  clean  and  rich. 

But  I  have  not  said  all  this  out  of  any  want  of 
regard  for  Horticulture  as  an  art,  demanding  both 
skill  and  devotion ;  nor  have  I  said  it  from  any  want 
of  respect  for  those  pomologists  who  are  boldly  lead- 
ing the  van  in  the  prosecution  of  the  Art ;  but  I  have 
wished  simply  to  clear  away  a  little  platform  from 
which  to  talk  about  the  wants  of  humble  cultivators, 
and  the  way  in  which  those  wants  are  to  be  met. 

And  here  my  old  question  recurs — what  shall  be 
done  for  them  ? 

To  give  my  reply  definite  shape,  I  picture  to  my- 
self my  old  friend  Lackland,  who  has  grown  tired  of 


30  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

thumping  over  the  city  pavements,  who  has  two  or 
three  young  children  to  whom  he  wishes  to  give  a 
free  tumble  on  the  green  sward,  and  who  has  an  in- 
tense desire  to  pick  his  grapes  off  his  own  vine,  in- 
stead of  buying  them  on  Broadway  at  forty  cents  the 
pound.  He  comes  to  me  for  advice. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  I  should  say,  "  there's  no  giv- 
ing any  intelligible  advice  to  a  man  whose  notions 
are  so  crude.  Do  you  want  a  country  home  for  the 
year,  or  only  a  half  home  for  six  months  in  the  year, 
from  which  you'll  be  flitting  when  the  leaves  are 
gone  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  says  he,  "  it's  worth  considering. 
And  yet  what  difference  could  it  make  with  your 
suggestions?  Once  established,  I  could  determine 
better." 

"  It  makes  this  difference  : — if  you  propose  to  es- 
tablish a  permanent  home  for  the  year,  you  want  to 
provide  against  wintry  blasts  ;  you  don't  want  a  hill- 
top where  a  northwester  will  be  driving  in  your  teeth 
all  November ;  you  want  shelter ;  and  you  want  near 
walks  for  your  children  through  the  snow-banks  to 
school  or  church  ;  and  you  don't  want  the  sea  boom- 
ing at  the  foot  of  your  garden  all  winter  long.  If  it's 
only  a  summer  stopping  place  you  have  your  eye 
upon,  all  these  matters  are  of  little  account." 

"Suppose  we  make  it  a  permanent  home,"  says 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  31 

Lackland,  "  how  much  ground  do  I  want  to  grow  all 
the  fruit  and  vegetables  I  may  need  for  my  family  ?  " 

"  That  depends  altogether  upon  your  mode  of 
culture.  If  you  mean  to  trench  and  manure  thorough- 
ly, and  have  good  soil  to  start  with,  and  keep  it  up 
to  the  best  possible  condition,  a  half  acre  will  more 
than  supply  you." 

"  Call  it  two  acres,"  says  he,  "  and  what  shall  I 
plant  upon  it  ?  " 

What  shall  a  man  plant  upon  his  two  acres  of 
ground,  on  which  he  wishes  to  establish  a  cozy  home, 
where  his  children  can  romp  to  their  hearts'  content, 
and  he — take  a  serene  pleasure  in  plucking  his  own 
fruit,  pulling  his  own  vegetables,  smelling  at  his  own 
rose-tree  and  smoking  under  his  own  vine  ?  If  he 
goes  up  with  the  question  to  some  high  court  of  Hor 
ticulture,  he  comes  away  with  a  list  as  long  as  my 
arm — in  which  are  remontants  that  must  be  strawed 
over,  vines  that  must  be  laid  down,  vegetables  that 
must  be  coaxed  by  a  fortnight  of  forcing,  rare  shrubs 
that  must  have  their  monthly  pinching,  monster  ber- 
ries that  must  have  their  semi-weekly  swash  of  guano 
water,  and  companies  of  rare  bulbs  that,  after  wilting 
of  the  leaves,  must  be  dug,  and  dried,  and  watched, 
and  put  out  of  reach,  and  found  again,  and  replanted. 

And  my  friend  Lackland  reporting  such  a  list  to 
me,  sees  a  broad  grin  gradually  spreading  over  my  face. 


32  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

"  You  think  it  a  poor  list,  then  ?  "  says  he. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  it's  a  most  capital  one ; 
there  are  the  newest  things  of  every  sort  in  it ;  and 
if  you  cultivate  them  as  they  ought  to  be  cultivated, 
you'll  make  a  fine  show ;  they'll  elect  you  member  of 
a  Horticultural  Society ;  heaven  only  knows  but 
they'll  name  you  on  a  tasting  committee." 

"  That  would  be  jolly,"  says  he. 

"And  you'll  need  plenty  of  bass-matting,  and 
patent  labels,  and  lead  wire,  and  a  box  of  grafting 
instruments,  and  brass  syringes  of  different  capacities, 
and  gauze  netting  for  some  of  your  more  delicate 
fruits,  and  porcelain  saucers  to  float  your  big  goose- 
berries in,  and  forcing  beds,  and  guano  tanks,  and  a 
small  propagating  house,  and  a  padlock  on  your 
garden,  and  a  Scotchman  to  keep  the  key  at  seventy 
dollars  a  month,  and  a  fag  to  work  the  compost-heaps 
at  forty-five  more." 

"  The  devil  I  will !  "  he  says. 

"  Don't  be  profane,"  I  should  say,  "  or  if  you 
needs  must,  you'll  have  better  occasion  for  it  when 
you  get  fairly  into  the  traces." 

And  then — more  seriously — "  My  dear  fellow,  the 
list,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  capital  one  ;  but  it  supposes 
most  careful  culture,  extreme  attention,  and  a  love 
for  all  the  niceties  of  the  art — which  you  have  not. 
You  want  to  take  things  easv  ;  you  don't  want  to 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  33 

torment  yourself  with  the  idea  that  your  children 
may  be  plucking  unaware  your  specimen  berries ;  you 
don't  want  to  lock  them  out  of  the  garden.  As  sure 
as  you  undertake  such  a  venture  you'll  be  at  odds 
with  your  Scotchman ;  you'll  lose  the  names  of  your 
own  trees  ;  you'll  forget  the  hyacinths ;  your  *  half- 
hardys '  will  all  be  scotched  by  the  second  winter ; 
your  dwarf  *  Vicars '  that  need  such  careful  nursing 
and  high  dressing  will  dwindle  into  lean  shanks  of 
pears  that  have  no  flavor.  My  advice  to  you  is — to 
throw  the  fine  list  in  the  fire  ;  to  limit  yourself,  until 
you  have  felt  your  way,  to  some  ten  or  a  dozen  of 
the  best  established  varieties  ;  don't  be  afraid  of  old 
things  if  they  are  good;  if  a  gaunt  Rhode  Island 
Greening  tree  is  struggling  in  your  hedge-row,  trim 
it,  scrape  it,  soap  it,  dig  about  it,  pull  away  the  turf 
from  it,  lime  it,  and  then  if  you  can  keep  up  a  fair 
fight  against  the  bugs  and  the  worms,  you  will  have 
fine  fruit  •  from  it ;  if  you  can't,  cut  it  down.  If  a 
veteran  mossy  pear  tree  is  in  your  door-yard,  groom 
it  as  you  would  a  horse — just  in  from  a  summering 
in  briary  pastures — put  scions  of  Bartlett,  of  Win- 
ter Nelis,  of  Rostiezer  into  its  top  and  sides.  In  an 
unctuous  spot  of  your  garden,  plant  your  dwarf 
Duchess,  Bonne  de  Jersey,  Beurre  Diel,  and  your 
Glout  Morceau.  If  either  don't  do  well,  pull  it  up 

and  burn  it;   don't  waste  labor  on  a  sickly  young 
o* 


34  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

tree.  Save  some  sheltered  spot  for  a  trellis,  where 
you  may  plant  a  Delaware,  an  lona  or  two,  a  Re- 
becca, and  a  Diana.  Put  a  Concord  at  your  south- 
side  door — its  rampant  growth  will  cover  your 
trellised  porch  in  a  pair  of  seasons :  it  will  give 
you  some  fine  clusters,  even  though  you  allow  it  to 
tangle :  the  pomologists  will  laugh  at  you ;  "but  let 
them :  you  will  have  your  shade  and  the  wilderness 
of  frolicsome  tendrils,  and  at  least  a  fair  show  of 
purple  bunches.  Scatter  here  and  there  hardy  her- 
baceous flowers  that  shall  care  for  themselves,  and 
which  the  children  may  pluck  with  a  will.  Don't 
distress  yourself  if  your  half  acre  of  lawn  shows 
some  hummocks,  or  dandelions,  or  butter-cups.  And 
if  a  Avild  clump  of  bushes  intrude  in  a  corner,  don't 
condemn  it  too  hastily ;  it  may  be  well  to  enliven  it 
with  an  evergreen  or  two — to  dig  about  it,  and  paint 
its  edges  with  a  few  summer  phloxes  or  roses.  You 
will  want  neither  Scotchman  nor  forcing  houses  for 
this." 

This  is  the  way  in  which  I  should  have  talked  to 
my  friend  Lackland,  who  would  want  to  take  things 
easy. 

I  should  not  wonder  if  he  were  to  buy  his  placfl 
of  two  acres,  and  make  trial.  God  bless  him  if  b«j 
does. 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  35 


Lackland  Makes  a  Beginning. 

MY  friend  Lackland — as  I  suspected  he  would — 
has  purchased  a  little  place  of  two  and  a  half 
acres,  some  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  the  city  by  the 

Xew  X railway.      He  makes  his  trips  to  and 

fro  with  a  little  badly-disguised  fear  of  decayed 
"  sleepers,"  it  is  true ;  and  suffers  from  the  still  more 
frequent  embarrassment  of  riding  upon  his  feet — all 
the  seats  being  occupied,  and  the  company  being 
unfortunately  too  much  straitened  in  their  circum- 
stances to  add  to  the  number  of  their  carriages. 
He  was  disposed  to  resent  such  things  at  the  start, 
and  was  even  stirred  into  writing  a  brief  and  indig- 
nant appeal  to  an  independent  morning  journal ;  but 
upon  being  answered  by  an  attorney  for  the  company 
or  a  road  commissioner,  who  called  him  names  and 
abused  him,  as  if  he  had  been  a  witness  before  a 
court  of  justice,  he  subsided  into  that  meek  respect 
for  corporations,  and  awe  of  all  their  procedure, 
which  are  the  characteristics  of  a  good  American 
citizen,  and  of  most  well-ordered  newspapers. 

New  Yorkers  learn  how  to  bear  such  things ; 
there  is  no  better  schooling  for  submission  than  a 
two  or  three  years  course  of  travel  upon  the  city 
railways ;  Lackland  is  submissive.  And  after  a 


36  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

fatiguing  day  in  Maiden  Lane,  having  come  up 
Fourth  Avenue  with  a  stout  woman  in  his  lap,  he 
is  grateful  for  even  a  standpoint  upon  one  of  the 
New  X cars. 

But  this  is  all  by  the  way. 

My  friend  Lackland  has,  as  I  said,  bought  a  small 
country  place  within  a  mile  of  village  and  station, 
for  which  the  purchase-money,  in  round  numbers,  was 
six  thousand  dollars.  A  certain  proportion  of  this 
sum  was  paid  in  view  of  a  projected  horse  railway, 
which  is  to  pass  the  door,  and  to  unfold  building 
sites  over  his  whole  area  of  land.  As  yet,  however, 
it  is  in  the  rough.  There  is  indeed  "  a  brand-new 
house  upon  it — two  stories,  and  only  three  years 
built,"  as  he  writes  me,  "  with  ell  wash-room,  and 
all  well  painted  with  two  coats  of  white  lead.  The 
property  is  distributed  into  six  different  enclosures, 
of  which  I  send  you  a  draught." 

And  herewith  I  give  the  exhibit  of  Mr.  Lack- 
land's  little  place,  with  its  condition  at  time  of  pur- 
chase. 

"  You  will  observe,"  he  continues,  "  that  there  is 
rather  a  cramped  aspect  about  the  door-yard  and 
entrance,  these  being  hemmed  in  by  a  white  picket 
fence  on  either  side  and  in  front.  It  is  unfortunately 
the  only  sound  fence  about  the  premises  ;  the  garden 
(c)  showing  a  tottering  remnant  of  one  of  the  same 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND. 


37 


pattern,  and  the  other  enclosures  never  having  boasted 
anything  finer  than  'post  and  rail'  fixtures,  with  a 
half-wall  to  prop  them  upon  some  of  the  exterior 
lines.  The  enclosure  (d)  is  what  the  previous  owner 
called  his  back  yard ;  it  was  traversed,  as  you  see,  by 
a  cart-path  leading  straight  to  the  barn  court,  and 
was  encumbered  with  a  prodigious  array  of  old  wood, 
brush  heaps,  a  broken  cart  or  two,  and  one  of  the 
most  luxurious  thickets  of  burdock  and  stramonium 
which  I  ever  remember  to  have  seen.  He  (former 
owner)  tells  me  stramonium  is  good  for  '  biles.'  Is  it  ? 
"  The  buildings  around  the  little  enclosure  marked 
(g)  will  explain  themselves — a  barn,  a  hog-pen,  a  cow- 
shed— all  in  most  dilapidated  condition :  so  much  so 
that  I  shall  have  to  make  a  new  investment  in  the 


38  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

way  of  stable  room.  There  is  the  remnant  of  an  old 
orchard  upon  the  plot  marked  (&),  with  only  three  or 
four  ragged  and  disorderly  looking  trees ;  at  (J) 
again,  there  is  a  patch  which  has  been  in  potatoes  and 
corn  for  an  indefinite  number  of  years,  and  which  has 
a  terrible  bit  of  ledge  in  the  corner  (marked  m)  over- 
run with  briars  and  stunted  cedars,  that  I  fear  will 
cost  a  round  sum  to  redxice  to  a  level.  The  fields  (i) 
and  (A)  are  pieces  of  mangy  grass  scattered  over  with 
occasional  bushes,  but  I  do  not  despair  of  putting  a 
smooth  face  upon  them.  The  only  view  from  the 
premises  that  is  worth  considering,  is  rather  a  pretty 
one  (indicated  by  a  dotted  line)  of  the  village  spire, 
and  a  few  of  the  village  roofs  peeping  out  from  the 
trees,  and  back  of  them  a  glimpse  of  the  Sound.  I 
send  a  rough  sketch  of  it. 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  39 

"But  the  misfortune  is,  the  view  is  only  to 
be  seen  to  advantage  from  my  wash-room  door,  or 
from  one  spot  in  the  garden  just  now  encumber- 
ed with  enormous  Lawton  briars.  The  first  posi- 
tion is  soapy  and  damp  for  visitors,  and  the  last — 
tedious. 

"  What  I  wish  of  you," — my  friend  Lackland  con- 
tinues to  write, — "  is  to  give  me  a  hint  or  two  about 
the  combing  of  this  rough  little  home  of  mine  into 
shape.  And  in  order  to  a  more  definite  understand- 
ing I  will  tell  you  briefly  what  I  don't  want,  and  next 
what  I  do  want. 

"And  first,  being  a  plain  man,  I  don't  want 
crooked  walks,  for  the  mere  sake  of  having  them 
crooked ;  I  don't  want  to  go  into  my  gate  in  a  hurry 
— when  I  know  dinner  is  already  smoking  on  the 
table — and  yet,  after  entrance,  be  compelled  to  describe 
a  circle  planted  with  I  know  not  what  barbarian  ever- 
gi'eens,  before  I  can  get  to  my  door. 

"  I  don't  want  my  stable  yard  absolutely  in  sight ; 
least  of  all  do  I  wish  to  be  compelled  to  traverse  it, 
before  I  can  get  sight  of  my  pet  mare. 

"  I  don't  wish  a  carriage  drive  to  my  door-step, 
when  my  door  is  only  fifty  feet  from  the  road  by  a 
tape-line. 

"  I  don't  want  to  pull  down  or  to  move  the  present 
house,  because  in  so  doing  I  should  sacrifice  a  capital 


40  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

cellar,  which  I  must  do  the  previous  owner  the  justice 
to  say,  has  been  capitally  arranged. 

"  I  don't  want  such  a  great  array  of  fences ;  I 
don't  want  a  labyrinth  of  walks ;  I  don't  want  my 
garden  so  near  the  street  as  that  chance  passers-by 
shall  see  me  in  my  shirt  sleeves  and  hail  me  with : 
Hello  !  Squire,  what  you  goin'  to  ask  a  peck  for  them 
pa'snips  ? ' 

"  I  do  want  a  little  of  good  elbow-room  about  the 
house  and  entrance,  as  if  I  were  not  in  momentary 
fear  of  an  incursion  of  pigs  from  the  back  yard ;  I  do 
want  a  garden  of  somewhat  larger  area,  where  I  can 
grub  away  at  my  will ;  and  if  you  draw  me  a  plan, 
put  at  least  a  fourth  of  the  whole  land  into  herbs  and 
garden  stuff.  I  want  the  view  kept  of  the  village 
spire,  and  the  background  of  sea,  and  some  lounging 
place  from  which  I  may  look  upon  it  at  my  leisure. 
I  want  a  poultry-yard  of  such  dimensions  that  I  may 
count  upon  a  fresh  egg  every  day  to  my  breakfast ;  I 
want  provision  for  a  salad  on  Easter  Sunday ;  and  if 
you  could  contrive  me  some  cheap  fashion  of  a  cold 
grapery  to  try  my  hand  upon,  I  should  be  thankful ; 
only  let  it  be  so  situated  that  I  may  (if  grapes  fail) 
turn  it  into  a  winter  room  for  my  hens.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  what  I  can  do  with  the  rock  I  must  blast 
away  from  the  edge  in  the  corner  of  the  potatoe- 
patch.  I  want  something  I  may  call  a  lawn — to 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  41 

satisfy  my  wife's  pride — and  a  bit  or  two  of  snrub- 
bery  in  it.  But  above  all,  I  want  at  least  a  third  of 
the  land  in  good  wholesome  greensward,  with  no 
encumbering  trees — whether  fruit  or  exotic — where  I 
may  turn  my  mare  for  a  run,  or  play  at  base  ball  with 
my  boys,  or  cut  a  bit  of  hay,  or — if  the  humor  takes 
me — try  my  hand  at  a  premium  crop  of  something." 


Upon  this  I  made  a  little  study  of  Lackland's  plot 
of  land,  and  furnished  him  with  this  design. 

And  I  furthermore  said  to  him,  your  ledge  (which 
I  have  marked  g)  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
features  about  your  place ;  so  I  have  thrown  it  boldly 
into  your  garden,  in  such  way  that  it  will  be  in  full 
view  from  the  gate,  and  I  advise  you  to  cherish  it — 


42  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

to  plant  columbines  on  its  ledges,  and  your  Tom 
Thumb  geraniums  along  its  lower  edge,  in  such  sort 
that  in  autumn  they  will  seem  like  a  running  flame 
of  fire  skirting  the  cliff  and  blending  with  the  crimson 
verbenas  upon  the  circle  in  the  centre  of  the  garden. 
At  (f)  you  have  a  map  of  the  garden  and  your  work 
place,  and  to  make  the  privacy  of  it  entire,  you  may 
plant  a  hedge  for  a  barrier  along  the  line  (h)  or  you 
may  set  a  trellis  there  and  cover  it  with  vines.  At 
(e)  you  have  a  hot-bed  to  provide  your  Easter  salad, 
and  you  may  multiply  the  hot-beds  if  you  like  along 
the  border  (n)  which  is  made  under  shelter  of  a  high 
fence  to  the  north.  At  (c)  fou  have  your  cheap 
grapery  built  against  the  south-side  of  the  barn,  and 
convenient  for  the  transmutation  you  suggest ;  at  (b) 
is  your  stable,  and  at  (d)  your  poultry  house  with  a 
sunny  stable  court  to  the  south  of  it.  At  (tri)  you 
have  your  paddock  for  the  mare,  or  your  mall  for 
base-ball,  or  your  plow-ground  for  a  premium  crop — 
utterly  free  from  shrubbery,  and  communicating  with 
barn  and  with  street  alike.  The  lawn  explains  and 
describes  itself;  but  I  would  only  suggest  that  the 
shrubbery  marked  (J)  will  be  a  capital  spot,  under 
shade  from  south,  for  your  Rhododendrons ;  *  and  the 

*  Various  horticulturists  have  discussed  the  method  of  isolating 
a  border  of  rhododendrons  from  the  influences  of  a  forest  screen  to 
the  south — one  suggesting  simple  amputation  of  the  roots  of  the 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  43 

circle  (I)  I  would  advise  you  to  fill  with  a  dense  cop- 
pice  of  hemlock  spruce  to  break  the  wind  from  the 
north.  Along  the  border  marked  (k)  you  can  either 
plant  apple  trees,  and  at  fifteen  feet  of  distance,  a 
thicker  line  of  dwarf  pears  (being  careful  to  trench  or 
subsoil  the  ground),  or  you  can  stock  it  with  a  pro- 
tecting belt  of  evergreens.  In  either  case,  give 
thorough  cultivation,  if  you  wish  the  best  results. 

At  (a)  is  the  "  brand-new  "  house  remodelled  in 
such  fashion  that  you  have  a  southern  porch,  a 
kitchen  in  the  rear,  and  a  bay-window  in  your  dining- 
room,  which  commands  (by  the  dotted  line)  the  same 
view  which  now  wastes  its  charm  upon  the  stout 
woman  at  your  wash-tub. 

It  is  possible  that  my  friend  Lackland  may  report 
progress  to  me  some  time  in  the  course  of  the  sum- 
mer. 

trees  forming  the  screen,  and  the  other  the  interposition  of  a  wall. 
The  last  is  expensive  and  the  former  liable  to  be  neglected.  An 
open  ditch,  some  two  feet  deep  by  eighteen  inches  wide,  I  have  seen 
most  effectively  employed  for  the  end  proposed,  by  a  very  successful 
southern  horticulturist,  who  succeeded,  year  after  year,  in  securing 
a  magnificent  bloom  of  some  ten  or  twelve  varieties  of  Azaleas, 
within  twenty  feet  of  gigantic  cypresses  and  magnolias.  The  ditch 
may  also  serve  as  a  convenient  receptacle  for  leaves  and  the  rakinga 
of  the  borders. 


44  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


Lackland 's  Souse  Plans. 

TTKFOKTTJNATELY,  almost  every  city  gentle- 
^-^  man  who  comes  into  possession — whether  by 
purchase  or  otherwise — of  a  plain  country  house, 
from  which  some  honest  well-to-do  farmer  has  just 
decamped,  puzzles  his  brain  first  of  all,  to  know  how 
he  shall  make  a  "  fine  thing  "  of  it.  My  advice  to 
such  puzzled  gentlemen,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
would  be — "  not  to  do  it." 

If  the  ceilings  are  low,  and  the  beams  show  here 
and  there  the  generous  breadth  and  depth  of  timber 
which  old-time  builders  put  into  their  frames,  cherish 
these  remembrances  of  a  sturdier  stock  than  ours ; 
scrub  and  paint  and  paper  as  you  will,  but  if  the 
skeleton  be  stanch,  and  no  dry  rot  shake  the  joints 
or  give  a  sway  to  the  floors  and  ceiling — try,  for  a 
few  years  at  least,  the  moral  effect  of  an  old  house. 
It  can  do  no  harm  to  a  dapper  man  from  the  city.  It 
may  teach  his  wife  possibly  some  of  the  humilities 
which  she  cannot  learn  on  Broadway.  With  a  free, 
bracing  air  whistling  around  the  house  corners,  and 
here  and  there  an  open  fire  within,  low  rooms  are  by 
no  means  poisonous ;  and  if  the  trees  do  not  so  far 
shade  the  roof  as  to  keep  away  the  fierce  outpourings 
of  a  summer's  sun,  and  the  low  chambers  carry  a 


ADVICE  FOR   LACKLAND.  45 

stifling  air  in  August,  it  is  only  necessary,  in  many 
instances,  to  tear  away  the  garret  flooring,  and  to  run 
up  the  chamber  ceilings  into  tent-like  canopies,  with 
a  ventilator  in  their  peak — to  have  as  free  circulation 
as  in  the  town  attics.  And  such  tented  ceilings  may 
be  prettily  hung  with  French  striped  papers,  with  a 
fringe-like  border  at  the  line  of  junction  of  the  verti- 
cal with  the  sloping  wall — in  such  sort  that  your 
military  friend,  if  he  comes  to  pass  a  July  night  with 
you,  may  wake  with  the  illusion  of  the  camp  upon 
him,  and  listen  to  such  reveille  as  the  crowing  of  a 
cock,  or  the  piping  of  a  wren. 

But  a  monstrous  and  intolerable  grievance  to  all 
people  of  taste  lies  in  the  attempt  to  set  off  one  of 
those  grave  exteriors,  at  which  I  have  hinted,  by 
some  of  the  more  current  architectural  cockney  isms. 
Thus,  an  ancient  door,  with  the  dark  green  paint  in 
blisters  upon  it,  and  opening  in  the  middle,  perhaps, 
is  torn  away  to  give  place  to  the  newest  fancy  from 
the  sash  factories,  and  a  glazing  of  red  and  blue. 
For  my  part,  I  have  great  respect  for  a  door  that  has 
banged  back  and  forth  its  welcomes  and  its  good- 
byes for  half  a  century ;  the  very  blisters  on  it  seem  to 
me  only  the  exuding  humors  of  a  jovial  hospitality ; 
and  all  the  weather-stains  are  but  honorable  scars  of 
a  host  of  battles  against  wind  and  rain.  I  would  no 
more  barter  such  an  old-time  door  against  the  new- 


46  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ness  of  the  joiners,  than  1  would  barter  old-time 
honesty  against  that  of  Oil  Creek,  or  of  Wall  Street. 

Then  again,  your  cockney  must  tear  away  the 
laomely  sheltering  porch,  with  its  plank  "  settles  "  on 
either  side,  for  some  stupendous  affair,  with  columns 
for  which  all  heathenism  has  been  sacked  to  supply 
the  capitals. 

If  renovation  must  be  made,  it  should  be  made  in 
keeping  with  the  original  style  of  the  house — except 
indeed  change  go  so  far  as  to  divest  it  altogether  of 
the  old  aspect.  In  some  farm-houses  that  may  be 
taken  in  hand  for  repairs,  it  might  be  well  even  to 
strain  a  point  in  the  direction  of  antiquity,  and  to 
replace  a  swagging  door  by  a  stanch  one  of  double- 
battened  oak  or  chestnut,  with  its  wrought  nails  show 
ing  their  heads  in  checkered  diamond  lines  up  and 
down,  and  its  hinges,  worked  into  some  fanciful  pat- 
tern of  a  dragon's  tail,  exposed.  Then  there  should 
be  a  ponderous  iron  knocker,  whose  din  should  reach 
all  over  the  house,  and  the  iron  thumb-latch — not  cast 
and  japanned,  but  showing  stroke  of  the  hammer 
and  taking  on  rust  where  the  maid  cannot  reach  with 
her  brick-dust.  Of  course,  too,  there  should  be  the 
two  diamond  lights  like  two  great  eyes  peering  from 
under  the  frontlet  of  the  old-fashioned  stoop.  All 
these,  if  the  house  be  so  ancient  and  weather-stained 
as  to  admit  of  it,  will  demonstrate  that  the  occupant 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  47 

is  among  the  few  who  are  left  in  these  days  of  petro- 
leum, who  make  a  merit  of  homeliness,  and  cherish 
tenderly  its  simplest  features.  If  the  house  be  really 
weak  in  the  joints,  the  sooner  it  comes  down  the 
better ;  but  if  it  has  snugness  and  stiffness  and  com- 
fort, let  not  the  owner  be  persuaded  of  the  carpenters 
to  graft  upon  it  the  modernisms  of  their  tricksy 
joinery.  I  can  well  understand  how  a  dashing  buck 
of  two  or  three  and  thirty  should  prefer  a  young 
woman  in  her  furbelows,  to  an  old  one  in  her  bomb- 
azine ;  but  if  the  fates  put  him  in  leash  with  an 
ancient  lady,  let  him  think  twice  before  he  bedizens 
her  gray  head  with  preposterous  frontlets,  and  puts  a 
mesh  of  girl's  curls  upon  the  nape  of  her  old  neck. 

I  have  said  all  this  as  a  prelude  to  a  little  talk 
about  certain  changes  which  my  friend  Lackland  has 
wrought  in  his  country  place — thirty  miles  away  by 

the  New  X road.    The  house  he  purchased  could 

boast  no  respectability  of  age.  The  height  of  its 
rooms  was  of  that  medium  degree  which  neither  sug- 
gested any  notion  of  quaintness  nor  of  airiness.  Its 
entrance-hall  was  pinched  and  narrow ;  its  stairway 
inhospitably  lean,  and  altogether  its  appointments 
had  that  cribbed  and  confined  aspect,  which,  to  one 
used  to  width  and  sunshine,  was  almost  revolting. 
The  wash-room  was  positively  the  only  apartment 
below  stairs  which  had  a  southern  aspect.  I  give  his 


48  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

drawing  of  it,  and  it  is  a  good  type  of  a  great  many 
"  small  and  convenient  houses  "  scattered  through  our 
country  towns. 


"  Of  course,  this  will  never  do,"  wrote  Lackland 
to  me,  "  and  yet  the  skin  of  the  house  (as  our  car- 
penter calls  it)  is  very  good,  and  I  wish  to  make  the 
needed  changes,  so  far  as  possible,  without  disturbing 
the  exterior  outline  of  the  main  building.  But  how 
shall  I  rid  myself  of  that  preposterously  narrow  en- 
trance-way in  which  I  can  almost  fancy  Mrs.  L.,  (who 
is  something  large)  getting  wedged  on  some  warm 
day  ?  How  shall  I  throw  sunlight  into  that  dismal 
parlor?  You  will  perceive  that  along  the  whole 
south  front  there  is  not  a  single  available  window 
below.  Now,  half  the  charm  of  a  country  place,  to 
my  notion,  lies  in  the  possession  of  some  sunny  porch 
upon  which  the  early  vines  will  clamber,  and  under 
whose  eaves  the  Phoebe  birds  will  make  their  nests. 


ADVICE   FOR  LACKLAND. 


49 


I  want,  too,  my  after-dinner  lounges  at  a  sunny  door, 
where  I  can  smoke  my  pipe,  basking  in  the  yellow 
light,  as  I  watch  the  shadows  chasing  over  the  grass. 
About  the  stupid  little  design  I  send  you,  there  is 
neither  hope  nor  possibility  of  this. 

"  Again,  even  with  a  dining-room,  or  library 
added,  and  perhaps  a  kitchen,  I  shall  be  still  in  want 
of  further  chamber  range,  which  if  I  gain  (as  our 
carpenter  suggests)  by  piling  on  a  story  more,  it 
appears  to  me  that  I  should  give  to  the  narrow  front 
of  the  house  an  absurd  cock-loft  look  that  would  be 
unendurable. 


"  Mrs.  L.  and  myself  have  scored  out  an  incredible 
number  of  diagrams — all  which  have  been  discussed, 
slept  on,  admired,  and  eventually  condemned.    Some- 
times it  is  the  old  pinched  entrance  way  that  works 
3 


50  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

condemnation ;  sometimes  (on  my  part)  the  lack  of 
sunny  exposure ;  and  oftenest  (on  hers)  the  lack  of 
closets.  She  insists  that  no  man  yet  ever  planned  a 
house  properly  on  this  score.  She  doesn't  see  clearly 
(*eing  deficient  in  mathematics)  why  a  closet  shouldn't 
be  made  in  every  partition  wall.  She  don't  definitely 
understand,  I  think,  why  a  person  should  thwack  his 
head  in  a  closet  under  the  stairs.  She  sometimes  (our , 
carpenter  tells  us)  insists  upon  putting  a  window 
through  a  chimney  ;  and  on  one  occasion  (it  was 
really  a  very  pretty  plan)  contrived  so  as  to  conduct 
a  chimney  through  the  middle  of  the  best  bed  room  ; 
and  the  nicest  scheme  of  all,  to  my  thinking,  posi- 
tively had  the  stairs  left  out  entirely. 

"  In  this  dilemma,  I  want  you  to  tell  us  what  can 
be  done  with  the  old  shell,  so  as  to  make  it  passably 
habitable,  until  we  find  out  if  this  new  passion  for 
country  life  is  to  hold  good." 

Upon  this  I  ventured  to  send  him  this  little  plan 
of  adaptation,  which,  though  not  without  a  good 
many  faults  that  could  be  obviated  in  building  anew, 
yet  promised  to  meet  very  many  of  their  wants,  and 
gave  to  Lackland  his  sunny  frontage. 

"  Here  you  have,"  I  wrote  him,  "  your  south  door, 
and  porch  to  lounge  upon,  and  your  south  bow  win- 
dow to  your  library,  which,  if  the  rural  tastes  grow 
upon  you,  you  can  extend  into  a  conservatory,  cover 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  51 

ing  the  whole  southern  flank  of  the  apartment.     The 
parlor,  too,  has  its  two  south  windows,  and  although 


I  should  have  preferred  to  place  the  chimney  upon 
the  northern  side,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  window 
there,  yet  it  seemed  best  to  make  use  of  the  flue 
already  established.  The  hall  is  well  lighted  from 
the  north,  and  will  give  room  for  the  hanging  of  any 
of  your  great-aunt's  portraits,  if  you  have  any. 

"  There  is  an  objection  to  traversing  the  dining- 
room  in  going  from  the  kitchen  to  the  hall-door ;  but 
it  could  not  well  be  obviated,  with  the  existing  shell 
of  your  house,  without  reducing  the  size  of  the  dining- 
room  too  much,  or  (another  resource)  without  increas- 
ing largely  the  dimensions  of  the  hall — throwing  the 
intervening  space  between  it  and  kitchen  into  store 


52  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

rooms  and  making  the  library  do  duty  for  the  spread 
of  your  table. 

"  The  dining-room,  moreover,  having  only  north 
exposure,  you  may  condemn  as  dismal.  I  propose  to 
obviate  this  and  to  give  it  a  cheerful  south  light  by 
an  extravagance  which  I  dare  say  the  architects  will 
condemn,  but  which  will  have  its  novelty  and  possi- 
ble convenience. 

M  The  fireplaces  of  library  and  of  dining-room,  are, 
you  observe,  back  to  back.  Now  I  would  suggest 
that  the  two  flues  be  carried  up  with  a  sweep  to 
either  side  (uniting  in  the  garret)  in  such  sort,  that  a 
broad  arched  opening  shall  be  left  above  the  mantel 
from  one  room  into  the  other.  This  may  be  draped, 
if  you  like,  with  some  tasteful  upholstery ;  but  not  so 
far  as  to  forbid  a  broad  flow  of  the  warm  light  from 
the  bow  window  of  the  library ;  while  upon  the 
mantels  of  even  height,  you  may  place  a  Wardian 
case  that  shall  show  its  delicate  plumes  of  fern 
between  your  table  and  the  southern  sunlight  all 
winter  long.  It  would  moreover  be  quite  possible, 
owing  to  the  breadth  of  partition  wall  afforded  by 
the  two  flues,  to  arrange  folding  shutters  for  the 
complete  closing  of  the  arch- way  whenever  desired. 
For  my  own  part,  1  love  such  little  novelties  of  ar- 
rangement, which  mark  a  man's  house  as  his  own,  how- 
ever much  they  may  put  the  carpenters  to  the  gape. 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND. 


53 


"  As  for  the  additional  chamber-room,  never  think 
of  putting  a  third  story  upon  so  narrow-throated  a 
house,  or  you  will  give  it  an  irredeemable  gawkyness. 
If  the  space  is  needed,  find  it  by  throwing  a  more 
generous  roof  over  all  (raising  the  plates  if  need  be), 
and  lighting  your  cock-lofts  with  dormer  windows. 


Then  paint  with  discretion ;  avoid  white,  and  all 
shades  of  lilac — the  most  abominable  color  that  was 
ever  put  upon  a  house — you  can't  match  the  flow- 
ers, and  don't  try,  I  beg.  A  mellow  brown  or  a 
cool  gray  are  the  best  for  the  principal  surfaces. 
Let  there  be  no  forced  contrasts,  and  no  indecisive 
mingling  of  tones ;  above  all,  remember  that  with 


54  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

your  elevations,  you  want  to  aim  to  reduce  the  ap- 
parent height ;  work  in,  therefore,  as  many  horizontal 
lines  of  decisive  color  as  your  exterior  carpentry  will 
allow ;  give  dark  hoods,  if  you  will,  to  your  front 
parlor  windows,  and  let  the  cornice-finish  below  your 
mansard  roof  reach  well  down,  and  carry  dark  shad- 
ing. 

"  When  you  are  fairly  in,  I  will  come  and  see  how 
you  look." 

Lackland's  Gardener. 

~YT"T"ITH  his  grounds  laid  out  and  his  house  in 
*  *  fairly  habitable  condition — according  to  the 
plans  already  laid  before  the  reader — Lackland  holds 
various  consultations  in  regard  to  a  proper  gardener 
— consults  as  in  duty  bound,  first  of  all,  Mrs.  Lack- 
land. 

Mrs.  Lackland  wishes  an  industrious,  sober  man, 
who  will  keep  the  walks  neat  and  tidy,  who  knows 
enough  of  flowers  not  to  hoe  up  any  of  her  choice 
annuals, — (whose  seeds  she  dots  about  in  all  direc- 
tions, marking  the  places  with  fragments  of  twigs 
thrust  in  at  all  possible  angles) ;  she  wishes  moreover, 
a  good-natured  man,  who  shall  be  willing  to  come 
and  pot  a  flower  for  her  at  a  moment's  notice  ;  one 
who  will  not  forget  the  sweet  marjoram  or  the  sage, 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  55 

and  who  will  not  allow  the  thyme  to  die  in  the 
winter. 

He  consults  the  city  seedsmen,  who  refer  him  to 
a  half-dozen  of  stout  men  who  may  be  lounging  upon 
the  barrels  in  the  front  of  their  sales-rooms  on  almost 
any  fine  morning  in  April;  but,  on  entering  into 
parley  with  them,  he  is  so  confounded  with  their 
talk  about  ranges,  and  pits,  and  bottom  heat,  and 
Pelargoniums,  and  Orchids,  that  he  withdraws  in 
disgust. 

He  consults  the  newspapers,  where  he  finds  a  con- 
siderable array  of  advertisements  of  "  steady,  capable 
men,  willing  to  make  themselves  useful  upon  a  gentle- 
man's place  ;  "  he  communicates  with  some  two  or 
three  of  the  most  promising  advertisers,  and  arranges 
for  an  interview  wilh  them.  Lackland  has  great  faith, 
like  almost  all  the  men  I  ever  met,  in  his  study  of 
physiognomy.  About  a  man's  temper  or  his  honesty, 
he  can  hardly  be  mistaken,  he  thinks,  if  he  can  once 
set  eyes  upon  him.  He  is  therefore  strongly  disposed 
in  favor  of  a  stout,  jolly-faced  Irishman,  who  assures 
him  he  can  grow  as  good  "  vigitables  as  enny  man  in 
Ameriky." 

"  And  flowers,  Patrick  (Patrick  O'Donohue  is  his 
name),  you  could  take  care  of  the  flowers  ?  " 

"  Oh,  flowers,  and  begorra,  yis,  sir — roses,  pinks, 
vi'lets — roses — whatever  you  wish,  sir." 
2* 


56  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

"  And,  Patrick,  you  could  harness  a  horse  some- 
times if  it  were  necessary." 

"  Horses,  and  indade,  yis,  sir ;  ye  may  jist  say  I'm 
at  home  in  a  stable,  sir." 

"  And  the  poultry,  Patrick,  you  could  look  after 
the  poultry,  couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  And  indade,  sir,  that's  what  I  can  ;  there's  niver 
a  man  in  the  counthry  can  make  hens  lay  as  I  can 
make  'em  lay." 

In  short,  Lackland  bargains  with  Patrick,  and 
reports  him  at  the  home-quarters  "  a  perfect  jewel  of 
a  man." 

The  best  of  implements  are  provided,  and  a  great 
stock  of  garden  seeds — the  choice  of  the  latter  being 
determined  on  after  family  consultation,  in  which  all 
the  vegetables  ever  heard  of  by  either  party  to  the 
counsel,  have  been  added  to  the  list.  If  a  man  have 
a  garden,  why  not  enjoy  all  that  a  garden  can  pro- 
duce— egg-plants,  and  okra,  and  globe  artichokes,  and 
salsify,  and  white  Naples  radishes,  and  Brussels 
sprouts  ?  The  seed  of  all  these  are  handed  over  to 
the  willing  Patrick,  who,  as  Mrs.  Lackland  im- 
pressively enumerates  the  different  labels  (Patrick 
not  being  competent  to  the  reading  of  fine  print, 
as  he  freely  confesses),  repeats  after  her,  "  Naples 
radish,  yis,  m'am ;  artichokes,  yis,  m'am ;  okra,  yis, 
m'am." 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  57 

Lackland  provides  frames  and  glass  for  the  early 
salads  he  covets  so  much,  and  Patrick,  with  the  fresh 
sweepings  of  the  stables,  has  presently  a  bed  all 
a-steam.  At  the  mere  sight  of  it  the  Lacklands  regale 
themselves  with  thoughts  of  crisp  radishes,  and  the 
mammoth  purple  fruit  of  the  egg-plants.  The  seeds 
are  all  put  in — early  cabbage,  cauliflower,  peppers, 
radishes — under  the  same  frame  by  the  judicious 
O'Donohue.  The  cabbages  and  the  radishes  come 
forward  with  a  jump.  Their  expedition  forms  a 
pleasant  theme  for  the  physiological  meditation  of 
Lackland.  He  is  delighted  with  the  stable  manure, 
with  the  cabbage  seed,  and  with  the  O'Donohue.  He 
is  inclined  to  think  disrespectfully  of  the  seed  of 
peppers  and  of  egg  plants  in  the  comparison.  But 
the  bland  O'Donohue  says, "  We  must  give  'em  a  little 
more  hate." 

And  after  some  three  or  four  days,  Lackland  is 
stupefied,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  his  hot  bed,  to  find 
all  his  fine  radishes  and  cabbages  fairly  wilted  away ; 
there  is  nothing  left  of  them  but  a  few  sun-blackened 
stumps ;  the  peppers  and  egg-plants  show  no  signs  of 
germination. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  "  says  Lackland ; 
"  the  cabbages  are  dead,  Patrick." 

"  Yis,  sir — it's  the  hate,  sir.  The  sun  is  very  strong 
here,  sir ;  we  must  give  'em  a  little  more  air,  sir." 


58  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

And  they  get  the  air — get  the  air  (by  a  little  for- 
getfulness  on  the  part  of  Patrick)  night  as  well  as 
day ;  the  peppers  and  egg-plants,  after  a  fortnight 
more  of  expectation,  do  not  appear. 

"  How's  this,  Patrick  ?  no  start  yet." 

"  And  are  ye  sure  the  seed's  good,  sir  ?  " 

"  It's  all  Thorburn's  seed." 

"  Then,  of  course,  it  ought  to  be  good,  sir ;  but, 
ye  see,  there's  a  dale  o'  chatery  now-a-days,  sir." 

In  short,  Lackland's  man  Patrick  is  a  good-natured 
blunder-head,  who  knows  no  better  than  to  submit 
his  young  cauliflowers  and  peppers  to  the  same 
atmospheric  conditions  in  the  forcing  frame.  The 
result  is  that  Lackland  buys  his  first  salads  in  the 
market,  and  his  first  peas  in  the  market,  and  his  first 
beets  in  the  market.  All  these  creep  along  very 
slowly  under  Patrick's  supervision,  and  the  onion  seed 
is  fairly  past  hope,  being  buried  too  deep  for  the  sun 
to  have  any  influence  upon  its  germinating  proper- 
ties. 

"  But  how  is  this,"  says  the  long-suffering  Lack- 
land, at  last,  "  our  neighbors  are  all  before  us,  Pat- 
rick ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  it's  me  opinion  that  the  land  is  a  bit 
cowld,  sir.  Wait  till  July,  sir,  and  you'll  see  vigi- 
tables," 

And  Patrick  grubs  away  with  a  great  deal  of 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  59 

misdirected  energy — slicing  off,  in  the  heat  of  his 
endeavor,  two  or  three  of  Mrs.  Lackland's  choicest 
rocket  larkspurs  ;  whereupon  that  lady  conies  down 
upon  him  with  some  zeaL 

"Larkspur!  and  that's  a  larkspur,  is  it,  m'am 
(scratching  his  head  reflectingly)  ?  and,  begorra,  I 
niver  once  thought  'twas  a  larkspur.  Pity,  pity ;  and 
so  it  was,  indade,  a  larkspur  ?  Well,  well,  but  it's 
lucky  it  wa'nt  a  rose-bush,  m'am." 

And  yet  the  good-natured  blunder-head  in  the 
shape  of  a  gardener  is  far  more  endurable,  to  one 
thoroughly  interested  in  country  life,  than  the  surly 
fellow  who,  if  he  gives  you  early  vegetables,  resents 
a  suggestion,  and  who  will  take  a  pride  in  making 
any  particular  scheme  of  the  proprietor  miscarry  by 
a  studied  neglect  of  its  details. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  should  lay  down  as  sound 
advice  for  any  one  who,  like  Lackland,  is  beginning 
to  establish  for  himself  a  home  in  the  country  that 
shall  be  completely  enjoyable,  the  following  rules 
with  respect  to  the  pursuit  and  employment  of  a 
gardener : 

First,  if  your  notion  of  country  enjoyment  is 
limited  by  thought  of  a  good  place  where  you  may 
lie  down  under  the  trees,  and  frolic  with  your  chil- 
dren, or  smoke  a  pipe  under  your  vine,  or  clambering 
rose-tree  at  evening — find  a  gardener  who  is  thorough- 


60  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ly  taught,  and  who  can  place  upon  your  table  every 
day  the  freshest  and  crispest  of  the  vegetables  and 
fruits  of  the  season,  leaving  you  no  care,  but  the  care 
of  bills  for  superphosphates  and  trenching.  If  you 
stroll  into  his  domain  of  the  garden,  take  your  walk- 
ing-stick or  your  pipe  there,  if  you  choose — but  never 
a  hoe  or  a  pruning  knife.  Joke  with  him,  if  you  like, 
but  never  advise  him.  Take  measure  of  his  fitness  by 
the  fruits  he  puts  upon  your  table,  the  order  of  your 
grounds,  and  the  total  of  your  bills.  If  these  are 
satisfactory — keep  him  :  if  not,  discharge  him,  as  you 
would  a  lawyer  who  managed  your  case  badly,  or  a 
doctor  who  bled  or  purged  you  to  a  sad  state  of 
depletion. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  in  establishing  a  country 
home,  you  have  a  wish  to  identify  yourself  with  its 
growth  into  fertility  and  comeliness,  in  such  sort  that 
you  may  feel  that  every  growing  shrub  is  a  little 
companion  for  you  and  yours — every  vine  a  friend — 
every  patch  of  herbs,  of  vegetables,  or  of  flowers,  an 
aid  to  the  common  weal  and  pleasures  of  home,  in 
which  you  take,  and  will  never  cease  to  take,  a  per- 
sonal interest  and  pride — if  all  this  be  true,  and  you 
have  as  good  as  three  hours  a  day  to  devote  to  per- 
sonal superintendence — then,  by  all  means,  forswear 
all  gardeners  who  come  to  you  with  great  recom- 
mendations of  their  proficiency.  However  just  these 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  61 

may  be,  all  their  accomplishments,  ten  to  one,  will  be 
only  a  grievance  to  you.  It  is  far  better,  if  you  be 
really  in  earnest  to  taste  ruralities  to  the  full,  to  find 
some  honest,  industrious  fellow — not  unwilling  to  be 
taught — who  will  lend  a  cheerful  hand  to  your  efforts 
to  work  out  the  problem  of  life  in  the  country  for 
yourself 

You  will  blunder ;  but  in  such  event  you  will 
enjoy  the  blunders.  You  will  burn  your  young  cab- 
bages, but  you  will  know  better  another  year.  Your 
first  grafts  will  fail,  but  you  will  find  out  why  they 
fail  You  will  put  too  much  guano  to  your  sweet 
corn,  but  you  will  have  a  pungent  agricultural  fact 
made  clear  to  you.  You  will  leave  your  turnips  and 
beets  standing  too  thickly  in  the  rows  ;  but  you  will 
learn  by  the  best  of  teaching — never  to  do  so  again. 
You  will  buy  all  manner  of  fertilizing  nostrums — and 
of  this  it  may  require  a  year  or  two  to  cure  you. 
You  will  believe  in  every  new  grape,  or  strawberry, 
— and  of  this  it  may  require  many  years  to  cure  you. 
You  will  put  faith,  at  the  first,  in  all  the  horticultural 
advices  you  find  in  the  newspapers, — and  of  this  you 
will  speedily  be  cured. 

In  short,  whoever  is  serious  about  this  matter,  of 
taking  a  home  in  the  country  (if  his  rural  taste  be  a 
native  sentiment,  and  not  a  whim),  should  abjure  the 
presence  of  a  surly  master  in  the  shape  of  a  gardener, 


62  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

who  can  tell  him  how  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh  (or  any 
other)  managed  such  matters. 

God  manages  all  of  nature's  growth  and  bloom  in 
such  way,  that  every  earnest  man  with  an  observant 
eye  can  so  far  trace  the  laws  of  His  Providence,  as  to 
insure  to  himself  a  harvest  of  fruit,  or  grain,  or 
flowers.  And  whatever  errors  may  be  made  are  only 
so  many  instructors,  to  teach,  and  to  quicken  love  by 
their  lesson. 

Let  us  not  then  despair  of  our  friend  Lackland, 
though  his  cabbages  are  burnt,  and  his  beets  are 
behind  the  time.  I  shall  visit  him  again,  and  trust 
that  I  may  find  his  verbenas  and  lilies  in  bloom, 
though  his  larkspurs  have  been  cut  down. 

A  Pig  and  a  Cow. 

I  PROPOSE  an  odd  horticultural  subject ;  but  the 
man  who  plants  a  garden,  and  builds  a  cottage, 
and  carries  in  his  thought  the  hope  of  shaking  off  the 
dust  of  the  city  under  green  trees  upon  his  own 
sward  land,  where  some — nameless  party — in  white 
lawn,  with  blue  ribbon  of  a  sash  (as  in  Mr.  Irving's 
pretty  picture  of  a  wife),  stands  ready  to  greet  him, 
after  an  hour  of  torture  at  the  hands  of  our  humane 
railroad  directors — the  man,  I  say,  who  looks  forward 
to  all  this,  and  enters  upon  the  experience,  thinks, 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  63 

sooner  or  later,  of  a  cow  and  a  pig — the  pig  to  con- 
sume the  waste  growth  of  his  garden,  and  the  cow  to 
supply  such  tender  food  for  his  growing  ones  as  they 
most  need. 

The  pig  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  classic  ani- 
mal ;  Virgil,  indeed,  introduces  him  as  crunching 
acorns  under  elm-trees — which  account  I  cannot  help 
reckoning  as  apocryphal.  But  he  is  a  very  jolly  and 
frisky  little  animal  in  his  young  days,  not  without  a 
good  deal  of  clumsy  grace  in  his  movements,  and 
showing  a  most  human  zeal  for  the  full  end  of  the 
trough. 

There  is  almost  the  same  diversity  of  opinion  with 
respect  to  the  different  races  of  pigs,  which  our  horti- 
cultural friends  indulge  in  with  respect  to  fruits.  It 
is  always  an  awkward  matter  to  discuss  the  merits  of 
different  families,  whether  of  animals  who  talk,  or 
animals  who  only  grunt  or  bellow.  If  the  raw  sub- 
urban resident,  in  whose  interest  I  make  these  notes, 
has  an  ambition  to  rear  a  prize  hog  that  shall  out- 
weigh anything  his  neighbors  can  show,  and  intends 
to  keep  his  bin  full  of  rank  material,  I  should  cer- 
tainly advise  the  great-boned  Chester  County  race, 
which,  with  judicious  feeding,  come  to  most  elephan- 
tine proportions.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should 
prefer  a  dapper,  snug-jointed  beast,  that  shall  not  be 
particular  in  regard  to  food,  and  which  will  yield  him 


64  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

cutlets  in  which  the  muscular  material  shall  not  be 
utterly  overlaid  and  lost  in  fatty  adipose  matter,  I 
should  counsel  the  sleek  Berkshire.  Or  if,  uniting  the 
two,  he  should  desire  a  delicate  limbed,  well-rounded, 
contented  little  animal,  that  shall  browse  with  equa- 
namity  upon  the  purslane  and  the  spare  beet-tops 
from  his  garden,  I  know  none  safer  to  commend  than 
the  Suffolks.  Nor  is  it  essential  that  he  be  thorough 
bred,  since  the  tokens  of  pur  sang  are  a  red  baldness, 
and  a  possible  twisting  away  of  the  beast's  own  tail, 
which  do  not  contribute  to  good  looks.* 

All  this  is  but  preparatory  to  my  reply  to  Lack- 
land, who  writes  to  me  :  "  We  have  voted  to  have  a 
pig  and  a  cow  ;  what  kinds  shall  I  get,  and  how  shall 
I  keep  them,  and  what  shall  I  do  with  them  ?  " 

And  I  wrote  back  to  him :  "  Buy  what  the  dealers 
will  sell  you  for  a  Suffolk ;  if  he  lack  somewhat  in 
purity  of  blood  (as  he  probably  will),  don't  be  punc- 
tilious in  the  matter.  Let  his  sleeping  and  eating 
quarters  be  high  and  dry ;  and  if  you  can  manage 
beyond  this  a  little  forage  ground  for  him  to  disport 
himself  in,  and  wallow  (if  he  will)  on  wet  days — so 
much  the  better.  The  forage,  if  you  keep  him  sup- 

*  I  must  drop,  in  a  note,  commendatory  mention  of  the  Earl  of 
Sefton  Stock,  of  which  a  few  animals  have  latterly  found  their  way 
to  this  country — a.  trim,  sound,  long-bodied  breed,  easy  keepers,  and 
giving,  with  proper  care,  delicious  rashers  of  bacon. 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  65 

plied  with  raw  material  in  the  shape  of  muck,  or  old 
turfs  from  your  hedge-rows,  will  add  largely  to  your 
compost  heap,  and  in  this  way  he  will  make  up  any 
possible  sacrifice  in  his  flesh.  Miss  Martineau,  I 
know,  in  her  '  Two  Acre  Fanning,'  advises  severe 
cleanliness ;  and  if  the  only  aim  were  a  roaster  for 
your  table  and  accumulation  of  fat,  there  might  be 
virtue  in  the  recommendation.  But  a  pig's  work 
among  your  turfs  is  worth  half  of  his  pork.  He  will 
thrive  very  likely  upon  the  waste  from  your  table  and 
your  garden.  But,  against  any  possible  shortness  of 
food  supply,  it  were  well  to  provide  a  bag  of  what 
the  grain  people  will  sell  you  as  '  ship  stuff ; '  and 
this,  stirred  into  the  kitchen  wash,  will  make  an 
unctuous  holiday  gruel  for  your  little  beast,  for  which 
he  will  be  clamorously  grateful. 

"  Again ;  the  stye  should  be  convenient  to  the 
garden  (a  hemlock  spruce  or  two  will  shut  off  the 
sight  of  it,  and  a  sweet  honey-suckle  subdue  the  odors 
of  it) ;  then  you  may  throw  over  chance  bits  of  purs- 
lane, or  the  suckers  from  your  sweet  corn,  or  a  gone- 
by  salad,  and  find  thanks  in  the  noisy  smacking  of  his 
chops.  I  would  not  give  a  fig  for  a  country  house 
where  no  such  homely  addenda  are  allowed,  and 
where  a  starched  air  of  propriety  must  always  reign, 
to  the  complete  exclusion  of  every  stray  weed,  and  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  rollicking  Suffolk  grunter  in  it's 


66  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

corner,  who  squeals  his  entreaty,  and  declares  thanka 
with  the  click-clack  of  his  active  jaws. 

"  He  will  take  on  larger  and  clumsier  proportions 
month  by  month,  and  will  be  none  the  worse  for  the 
occasional  carding  which  your  zealous  Irishman  can 
afford  him  in  spare  hours ;  and  when,  in  the  month 
of  October  or  November,  the  waste  growth  of  the 
garden  is  abating,  and  the  frost  has  nipped  the  bean- 
tops,  and  laid  your  tomatoes  in  a  black  sprawl  upon 
the  ground,  your  Suffolk  (with,  say,  one  or  two  addi- 
tional bags  of  mixed  feed)  should  be  ripe  for  the 
knife. 

"  My  advice,  at  this  conjuncture,  would  be — sell 
him  to  the  butcher.  Those  who  like  pig  flesh  better 
would  give  you  rules  for  cut  and  curing.  But,  while 
I  have  considerable  respect  for  the  pork  family  when 
fairly  afoot  and  showing  grateful  appreciation  of  the 
delights  of  life  and  of  a  full  trough,  I  have  very  little 
consideration  for  the  same  animals  when  baked  or 
stewed.  Charles  Lamb's  pleasant  eulogium  on  roast 
pig  is  one  of  the  most  terrible  instigators  of  indiges- 
tion that  I  know ;  and  I  want  no  better  theory  for 
that  charming  writer's  occasional  periods  of  bitter 
despondency,  than  to  suppose  him  to  have  dined  '  at 
seven,  sharp,'  upon  the  dish  he  has  so  pleasantly  and 
fearfully  extolled. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  exception  is  not  to  be 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  67 

made  in  favor  of  a  good  rasher  of  bacon  at  breakfast, 
with  a  fresh  egg  (from  the  cock — as  a  city  friend 
once  suggested  in  a  flow  of  cheery,  rural  exuberance) ; 
nor  do  I  think  anything  can  be  righteously  said 
against  a  snug  bit  of  clear  pork  in  a  dish  of  boiled 
corned  brisket  of  beef;  nay,  I  would  still  further 
extend  the  exception  to  a  crisp  fry  of  delicate  slices 
as  an  accompaniment  of  grilled  trout,  where  the  latter 
fall  below  a  half-pound  in  weight ;  nor  do  I  think 
great  harm  of  a  thin  blanket  of  the  same  condiment 
to  enwrap  a  roasted  quail,  or  slivers  of  it  to  enlard 
delicately  a  fricandeau  of  veal.  But,  as  for  pork 
chops,  or  pork  roast,  or  pork  boiled,  to  be  eaten  as 
the  chief  piece  nutritive  of  a  dinner — it  is  an  abomi- 
nation !  Our  friends  the  Jews  have  not  only  Scrip- 
tural reason  in  the  thing,  but  reasons  physiological. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  fellow,  having  despatched 
your  pig  (who  should  be  bought  for  five  or  six  dollars 
at  seven  weeks  old,  and  should  be  sold  at  twenty — 
from  the  growth  of  your  garden  and  a  splicing  bag 
of  ship  stuff),  you  will  have,  if  you  have  used  proper 
vigilance,  some  three  to  four  loads  of  choice  compost 
to  contribute  to  the  vegetable  growth  of  the  next 
season.  There  is  a  notion  that  manure  from  such  a 
source  provokes  the  growth  of  club-foot  in  cabbages 
and  cauliflowers ;  but  after  repeated  trials  with  a 
view  to  fix  this  averment,  I  am  unable  to  do  so. 


68  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Club-foot  is  not  lacking  with  awkward  frequency ; 
but  appears  quite  as  often,  so  far  as  iny  experience 
goes,  with  other  fertilizers  as  with  that  from  the  pig 
stye.  A  good  liming  and  fresh-turned  soil  are,  so  far 
as  I  can  determine,  the  best  preventives.  Another 
precaution,  which,  in  my  view,  should  never  be  neg- 
lected, is  to  remove  and  destroy  at  once  all  plants 
which  show  symptoms  of  this  ailment. 

"  The  cow  is  a  more  tractable  subject.  Of  course, 
you  wish  one  that  never  kicks,  that  any  one  can  milk, 
that  will  not  resent  indignities,  and  will  yield  you  all 
the  milk  and  the  butter  you  need,  and  possibly  the 
cheese. 

"  I  remember  that  a  city  gentleman  of  great  horti- 
cultural (and  other)  ability  called  upon  me  not  many 
years  ago,  and  after  descanting  upon  the  absurdity 
of  planting  two  acres  for  a  crop  which  could  be  easily 
grown  from  half  an  acre,  he  asked  me  how  many 
quarts  of  milk  my  cows  averaged  per  diem  ?  '  Four- 
teen to  fifteen  quarts,'  said  I,  '  in  the  flush  season.' 

" '  But  that  is  very  small,'  said  he  ;  '  there  is  no 
more  reason  why  you  should  not  have  cows  giving 
twenty  to  twenty-four  quarts  a  day,  than  why  you 
should  not  have  strawberries  giving  two  quarts  to 
the  plant.' 

"  I  was  not  prepared  to  gainsay  the  proposition. 
The  truth  is,  I  feel  a  certain  awe  of  distinguished 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  69 

horticulturists  that  blinds  me  even  to  their  wildest 
assertions.  What  has  an  humble  cultivator  to  do,  or 
to  say,  in  the  presence  of  a  man  who  has  bagged  his 
premiums  at  a  New  York  Horticultural  Society,  and 
is  taster  ex-officio  at  the  Farmer's  Club  ? 

"  I  did  not  argue  the  matter  with  him ;  I  sub- 
mitted ;  I  acknowledged  my  mediocrity  humbly. 

"  Now,  my  dear  fellow,  there  are  cows  which 
yield  their  twenty  to  twenty-five  quarts  a  day,  but 
they  are  very  exceptional.  Many  such,  whose  private 
history  I  have  known,  have  been  fed  upon  their  own 
milk  with  the  cream  taken  off.  This  involves,  as  you 
will  admit,  I  think,  a  quick  reconversion  of  capital, 
which,  with  children  in  the  family,  is  not  always 
practicable. 

"  In  a  general  way,  I  should  say,  it  would  be  far 
safer  to  count  upon  an  average  of  twelve  to  fifteen 
quarts  per  day,  even  with  the  best  of  care.  And  as 
regards  your  actual  purchase  of  an  animal,  I  dare  say 
you  will  have  Wall  Street  friends,  who  will  talk 
grandly  of  the  short  horns,  and  suggest  some  Daisy, 
(1397,  A.  H.  B.,)  at  a  cost  of  six  or  seven  hundred 
dollars,  and — viewing  her  pedigree — cheap  at  that. 
My  advice  to  you  is,  don't  buy  any  such,  unless  you 
intend  to  turn  breeder,  and  enter  the  lists  with  the 
herd  book  people.  I  say  this,  not  because  the  short- 
horns are  not  admirable  animals ;  but  admirable  ani- 


70  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

mals  are  not  always  the  best  domestic  animals, — as 
some  of  your  recently  married  friends  may  possibly 
be  able  to  testify. 

"  But  a  man  who,  like  yourself,  comes  to  the 
country  for  a  leisurely  enjoyment  of  all  country  boun- 
ties, does  not  wish  an  animal  that  must  invariably  be 
kept  under  the  best  possible  condition  ;  he  Avishes  a 
docile,  adaptable  creature.  Even  a  snug  native  beast 
might  meet  all  the  ends  you  would  have  in  view, 
without  figuring  largely  upon  the  cash  book. 

"  Or,  still  better,  a  sleek  Ayrshire,  that  shall  carry 
in  her  air  and  horn  a  little  show  of  better  breeding 
and  full  returns  to  the  milk  pail.  But  if  you  have  a 
fancy  for  cream  that  is  fairly  golden,  and  for  occa- 
sional conversion  of  excess  of  milk  into  a  little  patk 
of  golden  butter,  nothing  will  suit  your  purpose  bet- 
ter than  a  dainty  Alderney,  with  her  fawn-like  eyes 
and  yellow  skin. 

"  I  am  aware  that  the  short-horn  people — who  can 
see  nothing  good  in  a  cow,  except  her  figure  show 
mathematical  straightness  of  line  from  tail  to  the  set- 
ting of  her  horn — sneer  at  the  comparatively  diminu- 
tive Alderneys.  It  is  true,  moreover,  that  there  may 
be  in  them  a  hollow  of  the  back,  and  an  undue  droop 
to  the  head,  and  possibly  an  angular  projection  of  the 
hip-bones;  but  their  nose  is  of  the  fineness  of  a 
fawn's,  their  eyes  bright  and  quick  as  a  doe's ;  their 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  71 

ski  a  soft  and  silken,  and  with  a  golden  hue  (if  of 
good  family),  which  gives  best  of  promise  for  the 
cream-pot.  Above  all  they  have  a  tractability  which, 
in  a  domestic  pet,  is  a  most  admirable  quality.  *  Spot,' 
(the  black  and  white  Alderney,)  the  children  can 
fondle ;  she  can  be  tethered  to  a  stake  upon  the  lawn, 
and  will  feed  as  quietly  as  if  she  were  in  a  field  of 
lucerne :  she  is  grateful  for  a  bonne  bouche  from  the 
garden,  and  takes  it  from  the  hand  as  kindly  as  a 
dog.  This  docility  is  a  thing  of  great  consequence 
upon  a  little  country  place  where  every  animal  is 
made  more  or  less  of  a  pet.  It  is  not  every  cow  that 
•will  bear  tethering  upon  a  lawn ;  there  are  those 
indeed  who  can  never  be  taught  to  submit  to  the 
confinement.  The  sleek  Alderneys  inherit  a  capacity 
for  this  thing,  and  I  have  seen  upon  the  green 
orchards  near  to  St.  Hiliers,  (Isle  of  Jersey,)  scores 
of  them,  each  cropping  its  little  circlets  of  turf  as 
closely  and  cleanly  as  if  it  had  been  shorn.  In  way 
of  convenience  for  this  service,  it  is  well  to  have  an 
old  harrow  tooth  with  a  ring  adjusted  to  its  top, 
and  revolving  freely,  upon  which  ring  an  iron  swivel 
should  be  attached.  To  such  a  fixture,  easily  moved, 
and  made  fast  in  the  ground  by  a  blow  or  two  of  a 
wooden  mallet,  a  halter  may  be  tied  without  fear  of 
any  untwisting  of  the  rope,  or  of  any  winding  up  or 
other  entrapment  of  the  poor  beast.  I  give  these 


72  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

hints  because  it  is  often  convenient  to  furnish  a  pet 
cow,  from  time  to  time,  some  detached  feeding  ground, 
where  the  shrubbery  will  not  admit  of  free  rambling; 
and  there  are  none  whose  habit  is  better  adapted  to 
such  indulgence  upon  the  lawn  than  the  Alderueys. 

"  If  your  cow  be  kept  up  constantly  for  stall-feed- 
ing, an  earthen  floor  is  desirable,  and  by  all  means  a 
half  hour's  run  in  the  barn  yard  of  a  morning.  A 
darkened  shed  will  be  a  great  luxury  to  her  in  fly 
time,  and  will  largely  promote  the  quiet  under  which 
she  works  out  the  most  bountiful  returns  from  the 
succulent  food  of  the  garden.  A  bit  of  ground  in 
lucerne — say  four  rods  square  (it  should  be  in  drills 
and  kept  hoed  the  first  season) — will  yield  an  enor- 
mous amount  of  food  material,  and  if  convenient  to 
the  stall,  your  children  will  delight  in  binding  it  up 
in  little  sheaves  for  "Moolly."  If  such  a  bit  of 
ground  be  so  situated  as  to  admit  of  an  occasional 
sprinkling  with  liquid  manure,  five  good  cuts  in  a 
season  may  be  safely  counted  on  ;  nor  do  I  know  any 
summer  herbage  which  cows  love  better.  Remember 
furthermore,  that  the  lucerne,  as  well  as  corn  fodder, 
is  improved  by  a  half  day's  wilting  before  being 
fed.  In  winter,  the  carrots  and  mangel  wurtzel  will 
become  available ;  both  of  which  any  cow  may  be 
taught  to  love,  (if  teaching  be  necessary,)  by  giving 
them  a  good  sprinkling  of  meal.  In  the  change  from 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  73 

summer  to  winter  diet,  and  from  winter  to  summer, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  all  sudden  changes  from 
great  succulence  to  dry  food,  or  vice  versa,  is  to  be 
most  cautiously  avoided.  Lack  of  care  on  this  score, 
is  the  secret  of  half  the  cow  ailments. 

"  If  I  were  to  lay  down  a  pleasant  and  productive 
winter  dietary  for  your  Alderney,  it  would  be  a  peck 
of  sliced  roots  in  the  morning,  not  forgetting  a  lock 
of  sweet  hay ;  at  noon,  a  quart  or  two  of  brewer's 
grains  and  fresh  water  ad  libitum  /  at  night,  a  warm 
pailful  of  drink,  into  which  a  quart  of  coarsely  ground 
buckwheat  meal  shall  have  been  stirred,  and  another 
lock  of  sweet  hay  in  way  of  nightcap. 

"  With  such  food,  and  an  occasional  combing,  at 
the  hands  of  Patrick,  (all  the  better  if  daily,)  I  think 
you  may  count  upon  such  golden  returns  of  cream  as 
will  bring  back  a  taste  of  the  grassy  spring-time." 

Thus  much  for  Lackland's  Pig  and  Cow. 

On  Gateways. 

I     HAVE   often  wondered  why    the  professional 
writers  on  landscape  gardening  have  so  little  to 
say  of   gateways.      Among    the    more    pretentious 
authors  of  this  class  I  find  sketches  of  gate-lodges, 
very  charming  in  their  details,  many  of  them  ;  but  I 

find  little  or  no  mention  of  those  modest  gates  which 
4 


74  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

must  hang  at  every  man's  door-yard — those  unpre- 
tending swinging  barriers,  by  which  every  country 
house-holder  is  shut  off  from  the  world,  and  by  which 
he  is  joined  to  the  world.  They  may  be  made  to  give 
a  good  deal  of  expression  to  a  place  ;  they  have 
almost  as  much  to  do  with  it,  in  fact,  as  a  man's 
mouth  has  to  do  with  the  expression  of  his  face. 

There  was  once  a  gate  called  "  Beautiful,"  by 
which  a  lame  man  lay — we  ah1  remember  that ;  there 
was  once  too  a  certain  "  wicketrgate  "  (with  a  great 
light  shining  somewhere  beyond  it)  which  Evan- 
gelist pointed  out  to  Christian,  whereby  the  pilgrim 
might  enter  upon  the  path  to  the  Celestial  City — we 
all  remember  that  gate  ;  and  there  was  another  gate, 
belonging  to  our  days  of  roundabouts  and  satchels,  by 
which  we  went  out,  noon  and  morning,  by  which  we 
returned,  noon  and  evening — on  which  we  swung 
upon  stolen  occasions — a  gate  whereat  we  loitered 
with  other  philosophers,  in  other  roundabouts  and 
with  other  green  satchels,  and  discussed  problems  of 
marbles,  or  base-ball,  or  of  the  weather, — a  gate 
through  which  led  the  path  to  the  first  home  ;  well,  I 
think  everybody  remembers  such  a  gate.  And  thus 
it  happens  that  the  subject  has  a  certain  poetic  and 
romantic  interest  which  cannot  be  wholly  ignored, 
and  which  I  wonder  that  the  landscapists  have  so 
indifferently  treated. 


ADVICE   FOR  LACKLAND.  75 

Fancy,  if  you  can,  a  rural  home, — without  its  gate- 
way— lying  all  abroad  upon  a  common  1  The  great 
charm  of  privacy  is  gone  utterly ;  and  no  device  of 
shrubbery,  or  hedge,  can  make  good  the  loss  of  some 
little  wicket  which  will  invite  approach,  and  be  a 
barrier  against  too  easy  familiarity.  The  creak  of 
the  gate-hinge  is  a  welcome  to  the  visitor,  and  as  he 
goes  out,  the  latch  clicks  an  adieu. 

But  there  are  all  sorts  of  gates,  as  there  are  all 
sorts  of  welcomes ;  there  is,  first,  your  inhospitable 
one,  made  mostly,  I  should  say,  of  matched  boards, 
with  a  row  of  pleasant  iron  spikes  running  along  its 
top,  and  no  architectural  decorations  of  pilaster  or 
panel  can  possibly  remove  its  thoroughly  inhospitable 
aspect.  It  belongs  to  stable-courts  or  jail-yards,  but 
never  to  a  home  or  to  a  garden. 

Again,  there  are  your  ceremonious  gates,  of  open- 
work indeed,  but  ponderous,  and  most  times  scrupu- 
lously closed ;  the  very  opening  of  them  is  a  fatigu- 
ing ceremonial,  and  there  is  nothing  like  a  lively  wel- 
come in  the  dull  clang  of  their  ponderous  latches. 

Next,  there  is  your  simple,  unpretending,  rural 
gate,  giving  promise  of  unpretending  rural  beauties — 
homely  in  all  its  aspect,  and  giving  foretaste  of  the 
best  of  homeliness  within.  And  I  make  a  wide  dis- 
tinction here  between  the  simple  rurality  at  which  I 
have  hinted,  and  that  grotesqueness  which  is  com- 


76  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

passed  by  scores  of  crooked  limbs  and  knots  wrought 
into  labyrinthine  patterns,  which  puzzle  the  eye,  more 


than  they  please.  All  crooked  things  are  not  neces- 
sarily charming,  and  the  better  kind  of  homeliness  is 
measured  by  something  besides  mere  roughness. 

Lastly,  there  is  your  hospitable  gate,  with  its  little 
rooflet  stretched  over  it,  as  if  to  invite  the  stranger 
loiterer  to  partake  at  his  will  of  that  much  of  the 
hospitalities  of  the  home.  Even  the  passing  beggar 
gathers  his  tattered  garments  under  it  in  a  sudden 
shower  and  blesses  the  shelter.  And  I  introduce  upon 
the  next  page  a  very  homely  specimen  of  this  class  of 
gates,  which  I  remember  was  to  be  seen  many  years 
ago  somewhere  in  County  Kent,  England. 

Either  the  sketcher's  work  was  very  bad,  or  else 
the  engraver  has  failed  to  give  the  character  of  its 
rough  rooflet ;  which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  was  but 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  77 

a  thatch  of  broom,  or  of  sedge.  Yet  who  does  not 
see  written  all  over  it — plain  as  it  is  :  Loiter  if  you 
like  !  Come  in,  if  you  like !  And  I  love  to  think  that 


some  little  maid,  under  it — in  some  by-gone  year — 
said  her  good-night  to  some  parting  Leander.  Who 
shall  laugh  at  this,  that  has  ever  been  young  ?  Are 
not  the  little  maids  and  the  Leanders  always  growing 
up  about  us  ?  I  always  felt  sure  when  I  found  such 
covered  wickets  that  no  curmudgeon  lived  within. 

A  second  example  of  somewhat  more  orderly  pro- 
portions, but  identical  in  expression,  I  take  from  my 
note-book  of  travel,  finding  it  credited  to  some  little 
hamlet  of  Warwickshire ;  the  posts  and  supporting 
arms  being  of  unhewn  elm,  and  the  roof  a  neat  thatch 
of  wheat  straw,  which  at  the  time  of  my  visit  was 
gray  and  mossy. 

Has  not  somebody  somewhere  a  cottage  home, 
whose  homeliness  would  be  enforced  and  beautified 
by  such  a  cosy  covered  wicket  of  thatch  ? 


78  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Thatch,  indeed,  does  not  take  on  with  us,  and 


under  our  climate,  that  mellow  mossiness  which  be- 
longs to  it  in  Devonshire.  Our  winds  are  too  high 
and  drying,  and  the  sun  too  hot.  Still,  a  thatch  pro- 
perly laid  will,  with  us,  keep  its  evenness  for  a  great 
number  of  years ;  and  for  the  benefit  of  those  living 
within  easy  reach  of  the  coast,  I  may  say  that  nothing 
is  better  for  this  purpose  than  the  sedge  (so  called) 
of  the  salt  marshes. 

In  default  of  thatch,  however,  very  pretty  rural 
effects  may  be  made  by  slabs  (being  log-trimmings 
from  the  saw-mills),  or  oak  bark  (which  is  almost 
imperishable),  or  by  scolloped  shingles. 

An  example  of  the  effect  of  these  latter  I  venture 
to  give. 

In  this  case,  all  beneath  the  roof  is  of  cedar  with 
the  bark  undisturbed,  while  the  posts  above  the  roof 
are  trimmed  to  a  square,  tapering  and  carrying  a  ball 
— the  balls  and  tho  tapering  extremities  of  the  posts 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND. 


79 


being  a  light  buff,  and  the  roof  red.    The  effect  is 
exceedingly  good — though  it  mixes  the  rustic  and 


more  finished  work  in  a  way  which  the  professional 
artists  do  not  venture  upon.  But  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  know  that  professional  traditions  in  all  the 
arts — landscape  gardening  and  architecture  among 
the  rest — stand  in  the  way  of  a  great  many  beauties. 
Every  country-place  wants  its  special  art-garniture 
(without  respect  to  traditions)  as  much  as  every 
pretty  face  wants  its  special  environment  of  colors 
and  of  laces.  When,  therefore,  I  hear  a  man  declaim 
against  white  gates,  or  red  gates,  or  rustic  gates,  or 
stone  gates,  per  se,  without  reference  to  their  position, 


8o 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


or  suggestive  aims,  I  condemn  him  as  an  iron  method- 
ist,  who  apprehends  no  beauty  by  intuition,  but  only 
by  force  of  precept. 

Perhaps  I  have  myself  rather  hastily  condemned 
all  close  gates,  as  belonging  to  stable-courts  and  jail- 
yards.  There  are  situations,  certainly,  where  they 
are  not  only  allowable,  (as  upon  back-entrances  of 
gardens,)  but  where  they  contribute  eminently  to  the 
air  of  privacy  which  must  mark  every  true  home. 
And  I  am  reminded,  in  this  connection,  of  a  certain 
garden-door-way,  which  I  saw  near  Keightley,  in 
Yorkshire  ;  it  opened  upon  a  narrow  lane  in  the  rear 


of  the  suburban  grounds  to  which  it  was  attached, 
and  showed  such  homely,  resolute  determination  to 
work  up  into  tasteful  shape  the  stones  abounding  in 
the  neighborhood,  that  I  made  a  rough  draught  of  it 
upon  the  spot. 

This  picturesque  use  of  rock  material  is  appre- 
ciated and  practised  in  many  parts  of  Great  Britain. 
Thus  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  slate  quarries  of 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  81 

North  Wales,  near  Caernarvon,  the  refuse  material 
from  the  ledges  is  laid  up  by  the  adjoining  proprie- 
tors in  snug  fences,  that  appear  at  a  little  distance 
away,  to  be  crowned  with  a  regularly  castellated  bat- 
tlement. This  effect  is  produced  simply  by  alternat- 
ing cubical  and  oblong  fragments  of  slate  rock  upon 
the  summit  of  the  wall. 

In  Derbyshire,  again,  I  have  seen  a  kindred  effect 
wrought  by  the  tasteful  disposition  of  the  big  boulders 
which  are  scattered  pretty  thickly  over  some  of  the 
high  moorlands  of  that  country.  In  Cumberland  and 
Westmoreland,  indications  of  the  same  rural  adaptive- 
ness  abound. 

Thus  much  has  been  suggested  at  present  by  our 
friend  Lackland's  request  that  I  should  supply  for  him 
the  plan  of  a  gate.  We  will  now  see  what  can  be 
done  for  his  special  needs. 

Gateways  and  Rural  Carpentry. 

/"\N  turning  back  to  page  of  ground  plan,  the 
^-J  reader  will  perceive,  from  the  drawing  of  my 
friend  Lackland's  grounds,  that  he  has  need  of  three 
principal  gateways — a  small  one  for  the  footpath, 
being  the  entrance  nearest  to  the  village,  a  larger 
one  for  his  drive,  and  a  third  opening  for  his  grass 

field.     This  last  he  will  not  have  very  frequent  occa- 
4* 


82  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

sion  to  use ;  for  that  reason  the  gateway  should  not 
t)e  very  striking,  or  seem  specially  to  invite  entrance. 
Supposing  that  the  occupant  has  availed  himself  of 
the  old  walls  about  the  premises  to  build  a  substan- 
tial stone  fence  along  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
front,  I  should  advise  that  he  mark  this  field  entrance 
by  two  substantial  columns  built  of  the  same  material, 
and  place  between  them  a  gate  or  movable  panel  of 
fence,  constructed  of  cedar  poles,  or  such  other 
homely  or  lasting  wood  as  may  be  most  available. 
.  I  give  a  rough  drawing  of  what  I  would  propose. 


I  think  that  everyone  will  admit  that  these  col- 
umns have  a  tasteful  effect,  and  add  largely  to  the 
architectural  character  of  the  wall.  And  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  suppose,  as  many  do,  that  such  columns 
require  hammered  stone,  or  that  it  is  requisite  that 
they  be  laid  up  in  mortar,  and  by  an  adept  in  mason- 
ry. All  that  is  required  is,  that  stones  carrying  fairly 
developed  angles  should  be  laid  aside  for  its  con- 
struction— that  the  face  of  the  column  should  project 
three  or  four  inches  from  the  surface  of  the  wall  in 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  83 

order  to  mark  distinctly  its  faces,  and  that  it  be 
bound  in  firmly,  (a  thing  which  the  engraver  has 
omitted  to  do,)  with  such  long  stones  as  are  available. 
A  boulder  sufficiently  round  to  crown  the  structure 
may  be  found  in  almost  any  rod  of  old  country  wall ; 
and  if  it  be  well  covered  with  lichens,  so  much  the 
better.  The  great  error  in  such  structures,  is  in  at- 
tempting too  great  nicety,  which,  by  contrast  with 
the  homely  farmwork  around  it,  oflends  more  than  it 
gratifies.  In  humble  art,  as  well  as  in  the  highest 
art,  there  must  be  keeping. 

But  though  finical  nicety  is  to  be  avoided,  and 
such  hammering  out  of  faces,  as  to  increase  largely 
the  expense,  and  defeat  the  economy  which  should 
declare  itself  unmistakably  in  all  rural  decoration, 
there  should  be  no  sacrifice  of  solidity.  A  column 
that  will  not  stand  for  years,  had  better  never  be 
built. 

The  country  wall-layers,  ordinarily,  are  indisposed 
to  attempt  such  work,  either  doubting  their  own 
capacity,  or  considering  it  an  encroachment  upon  the 
province  of  the  mason.  The  consequence  has  been, 
in  ray  own  experience,  that  of  some  half-dozen  or 
more  which  stand  here  and  there  about  the  fields  at 
Edgewood,  every  one  has  been  laid  up  with  my  own 
hands  ;  and  I  may  aver,  with  some  pride,  that  after 
eight  or  ten  winters  of  frost,  they  still  stand  firmly 


84 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


and  compact.  One  only  has  lost  its  capping  boulder, 
which  certain  errant  hoys  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation to  tumble  off,  that  they  might  watch  its  roll 
down  a  pretty  declivity  of  a  hundred  rods,  or  more. 
I  wish  I  had  no  more  grievous  charges  to  bring 
against  errant  boys. 

For  the  entrance  to  the  drive-way,  supposing  that 
my  friend  Lackland  has  plenty  of  cedar  at  hand,  I 
give  another  design : 


And  I  have  this  much  to  say  in  favor  of  it,  that  a 
similar  one  was  erected  at  Edgewood  eleven  years 
since,  and  its  gates  have  swung  back  and  forth  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  without,  as  yet,  a  single  hammer's 
stroke  in  way  of  repair. 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  85 

Two  half-inch  iron  rods  were  passed  through 
each  gate  and  fastened  by  a  nut  upon  the  longer  up- 
right sapling.  Once  or  twice  it  has  been  necessary 
to  give  this  nut  a  turn  or  two  with  the  wrench,  and 
this  completes  the  tale  of  the  attention  it  has  re- 
quired. 

The  first  panel  (and  part  of  the  second)  of  the 
fence  to  which  it  is  attached,  is  given  to  show  its 
relation  to  its  surroundings,  and  the  perfect  simplicity 
of  detail  which  belongs  to  it.  The  posts  are  firm 
and  cannot  swag.  The  gates  are  light — perfectly 
braced,  and  held  in  place  by  the  iron  rods  which  pass 
through  them.  They  bid  fair  to  last  until  the  sap 
portion  of  the  wood  (cedar)  is  fairly  rotted  away. 
The  three  horizontal  arms  are  inserted  with  tenons ; 
the  braces  are  fitted  only  with  the  gouge,  and  made 
fast  with  wire  nails.  And  here  I  wish  to  enter  a 
plea  for  the  wire  nails,  used  all  over  the  continent  of 
Europe,  but,  as  yet,  little  known  with  us  j  though,  I 
believe,  they  are  to  be  found  in  the  larger  hardware 
shops  of  New  York.  The  advantage  of  them  is,  that 
they  can  be  driven  without  splitting  the  wood — that 
they  can  be  clenched  effectively,  and — what  is  of 
importance  in  light  work — they  add  very  little  to  the 
weight.  For  the  construction  of  interior  rustic  work 
of  twigs  and  bark  they  are  invaluable.  They  may 
be  found  of  all  sizes,  from  that  of  a  cambric  needle 


86 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


(and  a  half-inch  in  length)  to  that  corresponding  to 
our  "  ten  pennies,"  and  lighter  by  two-thirds  than 
these. 


The  third  gate  is  equally  simple,  and  in  way  of 
ornamentation,  has  only  its  little  rooflet.  The  de- 
sign represents  this  as  of  equal  width  with  the 
gate  ;  but  a  somewhat  better  effect  may  be  secured 
by  an  extension  of  the  roof  some  six  or  eight  inches 
on  either  side,  in  which  case,  of  course,  the  posts 
must  be  cut  off  even  with  the  ridge,  and  finials  of 
cedar  sticks  adjusted  at  either  end.  This  bit  of  roof 
over  the  gateway  gives  not  only  the  hospitable  air, 
which  I  remarked  upon  in  the  previous  chapter,  but 
serves  to  protect  the  rustic  work  from  the  weather  to 
such  a  degree  that  the  bark  will  hold  fast  for  double 
the  length  of  time.  In  all  such  work,  great  annoy- 
ance is  given  by  an  insect  which  devours  the  sapwood 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  87 

under  the  bark,  thus  loosening  the  latter,  and  filling 
it  with  an  ugly  yellow  powder.  I  have  observed,  in 
my  own  experience,  that  the  ravages  of  this  insect  are 
much  more  decided  and  constant  upon  cedar  cut  in 
the  winter,  than  upon  such  as  has  been  cut  in  the 
growing  season  of  the  year.  The  fact,  however,  may 
be  accidental,  and  I  must  confess  utter  ignorance  of 
the  habits  and  tastes  of  this  disagreeable  grub. 

The  virtue  of  all  such  rustic  work  as  I  have  com- 
mented upon,  lies  in  its  exceeding  simplicity,  joined 
to  great  serviceableness.  Home  repairs  do  not  tell 
badly  on  it ;  the  joints  need  not  be  arranged  with 
mathematical  precision ;  the  materials  are  near  at 
hand  and  inexpensive  ;  the  creeping  vines  cling  to  it 
lovingly  ;  it  wears  age  with  a  veteran  sturdiness. 

I  am  by  no  means  prepared  to  say  that  my  friend 
Lackland  will  adopt  my  views  on  this  head.  I  sus- 
pect that  bis  country  or  city  joiner,  when  confronted 
with  the  hints  I  have  thrown  out  in  these  gate 
sketches,  (they  are  really  intended  for  nothing  more 
than  bints),  will  shake  his  head  doubtfully,  and  lay 
before  my  friend  some  stupendous  affair  of  carpentry, 
with  an  infinitude  of  mouldings,  which,  to  his  eye,  is 
vastly  finer.  And  I  shall  expect  Lackland  to  yield  to 
the  charm  of  the  rectangular  elevations  that  are  set 
before  him ;  or,  if  he  absolutely  insists  upon  the 
working  up  of  what  stray  cedars,  or  other  wood,  may 


88  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

be  about  the  premises,  I  shall  expect  his  carpenter  to 
make  such  a  bugbear  of  the  exuding  pitch,  and  of  the 
impossibility  of  bringing  his  square  and  his  gauge 
into  requisition,  and  (if  he  goes  on)  to  keep  so  reso- 
lutely by  a  determination  to  counterfeit,  as  far  as 
possible,  all  the  mouldings  of  his  joiner  work,  that  he 
will  construct  a  cumbrous  affair,  at  such  great  cost 
of  labor,  as  will  disgust  my  friend  Lackland,  and  at 
such  cost  of  simplicity  as  will  disgust  every  tasteful 
observer. 

What  then  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  working  this  unruly  material  into  tasteful 
forms,  that  shaU  have  practical  and  economic  uses ; 
but  in  the  ordering  of  this  matter,  as  in  the  ordering 
of  a  great  many  others,  connected  with  rural  life,  if 
the  proprietor  can  put  no  zeal  into  his  intention,  and 
has  no  eye  for  the  charms  of  homeliness,  let  him 
abandon  the  pursuit.  A  good  fence  of  white  pickets, 
with  gate  to  match,  will  keep  the  pigs  out,  and  the 
young  Lacklands  in. 

Village  and  Country  Ho  ad-side. 

in  VERY  Christian  dweller,  in  village  or  in  coun- 
-* — ^  try,  owes  a  duty  to  his  road-side  ;  which,  if  he 
neglects,  he  relapses — horticulturally  speaking — into 
heathenism.  This  dutv  is  to  maintain  order  and  neat- 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  89 

ness ;  and  he  is  no  more  relieved  of  this  duty  because 
the  highway  is  assigned  over  to  public  uses,  than 
lie  is  relieved  of  any  other  duty  whose  accom- 
plishment must  of  necessity  contribute  to  the  public 
convenience  and  public  education,  as  well  as  to  his 
own.  Because  my  front  entry  is  shared,  for  all  legit- 
imate purposes,  with  my  friends  and  chance  callers, 
shall  I  therefore  treat  it  with  neglect  and  allow  the 
dust  and  cobwebs  to  accumulate  about  it,  while  I 
ensconce  myself  churlishly  in  my  welt-swept  den  ? 
Yet,  every  visitor — unless  he  be  a  vagabond  fruit- 
stealer,  or  an  equally  vagabond  bird-killer — comes  up 
the  road-way:  and  if  you  choose  to  put  him  through  a 
course  of  scoria3,  and  old  tins,  and  tansy  tufts,  and 
briary  heaps  of  stones  along  your  road-side,  you 
might  as  benevolently  and  as  prudently,  (so  far  as  the 
growing  tastes  of  your  children  are  concerned,)  lead 
him  up  to  your  front  door  between  piles  of  gaping 
clam  shells.  There  is  no  rule  of  order,  or  of  taste,  or 
of  benevolence,  that  belongs  to  a  man's  door-yard, 
that  does  not  belong  to  his  road-side. 

It  is  true,  there  is  a  liability  outside  the  fence  to 
the  incursions  of  road-menders,  who  are,  for  the  most 
part,  barbarians ;  but  there  is  no  more  reason  for  not 
covering  or  removing  the  odious  traces  of  these  ani- 
mals, than  for  not  removing  the  disagreeable  traces 
of  others.  An  ugly  yellow  scar  in  the  turfy  mound 


90  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

that  supports,  maybe,  your  garden  wall,  by  due  atten- 
tion, and  a  shovel  full  or  two  of  fresh  mould,  can  be 
thoroughly  obliterated ;  but  if  submitted  to  the 
swash  of  the  rains,  it  gapes  and  throws  off  a  great 
ooze  of  yellow  mud,  which,  next  spring  time,  tempts 
the  foraging  shovel  of  the  road-menders  again,  and  in 
a  few  years  your  whole  road-side  is  a  disorderly  line 
of  jagged  earth-pits,  with  raw  boulders  clustering  at 
the  front  of  each.  A  little  timely  care,  often  repeated, 
may  at  last  win  upon  the  regard  of  the  barbarian  fol- 
lowers of  the  scraper  and  hoe,  and  they  may  grow 
unwittingly  into  a  respect  for  your  love  of  order 
Such  miracles  are  subject  of  record.  A  safer  alter- 
native, however,  if  your  road-side  be  no  more  exten- 
sive than  that  of  my  friend  Lackland,  is  to  supply, 
at  your  own  cost,  an  occasional  defect  in  the  road-bed 
from  the  screenings  of  the  coal,  or  the  rakings  of  the 
garden,  by  which  you  may  easily  secure  so  even  and 
compact  a  surface,  as  to  escape  the  attention  of  the 
road  viewers.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  reach  be 
long,  an  arrangement  can  sometimes  be  made  with 
town-officials  to  keep  its  whole  extent  in  perfect 
condition,  for  a  sum  which,  if  it  be  small,  will  be 
remunerative  in  the  exemption  it  gives. 

Nothing  contributes  more  to  an  air  of  thrift 
than  neat  and  orderly  road-sides ;  I  would  not 
urge  any  finical  arrangement  of  turf,  or  clipping 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  91 

of  the  road-track,  but  only  such  judicious  comb- 
ing down  of  unsightly  roughnesses,  such  watchful- 
ness against  encumbrance,  such  adaptation  of  exist- 
ing shade  trees,  or  such  planting  of  others,  as  shall 
show  that  the  adjoining  proprietor  does  not  limit  his 
charities  by  his  own  walls,  or  his  eye  for  neatness  by 
the  line  of  highway. 

Once  upon  a  time,  when  the  writer  was  in  search  of 
a  country  homestead,  he  remembers  deciding  against 
certain  "  strongly  recommended  "  places,  because  the 
highroad  to  them  led  through  a  considerable  ar- 
ray of  suburban  houses,  whose  occupants  made  it  a 
religious  duty  to  throw  all  their  offal  in  the  public 
street,  and  to  cumber  the  same  locality  with  their 
hoop-poles,  or  their  wood-piles,  or  their  shoe-parings. 
It  is  so  hard  to  unlearn  such  a  noisome  depravity  of 
taste  !  Many  of  the  small  towns  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson  (near  to  New  York)  and  in  New  Jersey, 
offer  an  extended  exhibition  of  this  sort  of  local  econ- 
omy and  fragrant  treasures.  And  I  have  sometimes 
thought  that  New  York  citizens,  by  reason  of  the 
offal  in  their  streets,  become  quite  agreeably  wonted 
to  such  disposition  of  cast-away  bones  and  filth,  and 
scent  it,  upon  their  drives  to  their  country  homes, 
with  an  appetizing  relish.  But  in  the  name  of  all 
true  rural  delight,  I  beg  to  enter  protest,  and  to  urge 
every  man  who  has  his  homestead  under  green  trees, 


92  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

to  use  what  influence  may  lie  in  him  (albeit  he  is  not 
select-man)  to  abate  the  nuisance,  and  to  make  our 
village  and  country  road-sides  smack  of  order'  and 
thrift  and  cleanliness.  Good  example  will  do  very 
much  in  way  of  reform— more,  in  most  instances,  than 
any  zeal  of  preachment.  If  you  approach  an  old- 
school  neighbor,  who  has  inherited  the  propensity  to 
cumber  the  highway  before  his  door  with  all  conceiv- 
able odds  and  ends,  with  any  suggestions  for  a  change 
on  the  score  of  neatness  or  good  looks,  you  will  find 
him,  very  likely,  fortified  with  his  own  "  idees  "  on 
that  subject — "idees,"  which,  like  the  independent 
American  citizen  that  he  is,  he  is  in  no  mood  to 
relinquish. 

"  He  can't  git  a  livin  by  looks,"  and  with  such 
speech  shrewdly  uttered,  and  emphasized  with  a  rat- 
tling horse-laugh,  he  floors  your  blandest  sugges- 
tions. Yet  a  wholesome  attention  to  neatness  on 
your  own  score,  which  shall  creep  up  to  the  edge  of 
his  enclosures,  and  work  by  contrast,  will  in  time 
operate  insensibly  upon  him. — There  is  something 
after  all  "  very  catching  "  in  good  order. 

But  most  of  all,  the  co-operation  of  all  the  town's 
people,  who  are  disposed  to  neatness,  is  to  be  relied 
upon.  Every  country  place  of  any  size  should  have 
its  "  village-improvement  society,"  to  look  after  the 
planting  of  shade  trees,  the  proper  condition  of  high- 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  93 

ways,  the  arrest  of  stray  cattle,  and  to  discuss  and 
carry  into  execution  whatever  may  promote  the  thrift 
and  attractive  appearance  of  the  place, — whether  in 
the  way  of  new  streets,  laying  down  of  side-walks, 
or  removal  of  offensive  debris  or  noxious  weeds.  I 
commend  most  heartily  to  Lackland  the  instigation 
and  establishment  of  such  a  society.  And  if  such  a 
club  could  have  their  little  room  for  occasional  meet- 
ing, and  stock  it  with  a  few  valuable  horticultural 
and  agricultural  books  and  papers,  so  much  the 
better.  An  entirely  new  air  might  be  given  to  very 
many  of  our  slatternly  country  villages  in  a  few  years, 
by  the  energetic  operations  of  such  a  club,  and  the 
value  and  attractiveness  of  property  be  correspond- 
ingly increased. 

Most  of  the  North-eastern  States  have,  within  a 
few  years,  by  legislative  enactment,  outlawed  all 
strolling  cattle.  This  is  well,  and  relieves  from  a 
great  nuisance.  But  in  not  a  few  broad-streeted 
towns  there  has  sprung  up  in  consequence,  a  rank 
growth  of  weeds,  (formerly  kept  down  by  grazing 
cows,)  which,  as  it  seems  no  individual's  concern,  are 
allowed  to  ripen  their  seeds,  thus  multiplying  next 
year's  labor  in  the  fields,  besides  offering  a  terribly 
straggling  appearance.  In  fault  of  such  co-operative 
club  as  I  have  hinted  at,  (which  should  order  them 
cut  at  common  expense,)  every  man  should  see  to  his 


94  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

own  frontage.  If  such  nursery  beds  had  not  been 
tolerated,  we  should  long  ago,  I  think,  have  scotched 
the  Canada  thistle,  if  not  that  detestable  weed,  the 
wild  carrot. 

At  a  considerable  remove  from  towns,  we  fre- 
quently come  upon  some  quiet  streak  of  country  road, 
charmingly  bordered  with  a  wild  sylvan  tangle  of 
hickories,  sumacs,  brambles,  cedars,  and  all  festooned 
perhaps  with  the  tendrils  of  the  wild  grape,  or  the 
bittersweet.  Neither  economy  or  good  taste  com- 
mand the  removal  of  these,  even  when  bordering  cul- 
tivated fields,  except  (which  rarely  occurs)  they  har- 
bor bad  weeds  to  spread  within  the  enclosure.  Nay, 
in  nine  cases  in  ten  they  furnish,  a  grateful  shelter 
from  the  winds, — a  matter  too  little  appreciated  as 
yet,  either  by  fruit  growers  or  grain  growers.  And 
on  the  score  of  taste,  no  more  charming  contrast  can 
be  devised  than  that  of  such  wild  profusion  of  growth, 
with  the  neat  and  orderly  array  of  crops  beyond.  I 
can  recall  no  more  delightful  rural  scenes  in  England, 
tibc  certain  ones  in  Devonshire,  where,  after  strolling 
along  some  admirable  bit  of  Macadam,  with  high 
hedge-rows  on  either  side,  sprinkled  with  primroses, 
and  tasselled  with  nodding  ferns,  and  wild  with  tangled 
thickets  of  bramble,  I  have,  with  a  leap,  broken 
through  and  seen  beyond, — so  near  the  road  I  could 
have  tossed  my  hat  into  the  field, — such  trim  lines 


ADVICE  FOR  LACKLAND.  95 

of  emerald  wheat, — without  ever  a  weed  or  a  crook, 
— as  made  the  heart  rejoice.  The  high  hedge-rows 
are  indeed  now  being  cut  down  throughout  the  best 
cultivated  districts,  but  only  for  the  economy  of  land, 
the  surface  occupied  being  needed.  But  while  we 
have  country  roads  from  five  to  six  rods  wide,  the 
same  objection  does  not  obtain  with  us.  Observe 
again,  I  beg,  that  I  do  not  counsel  the  planting  of  any 
such  road-side  tangles,  or  indeed  the  sparing  of  them, 
when  any  better  use  can  be  made  of  the  land.  I  only 
plead  for  their  continued  presence  in  place  of  a  rude 
hurly-burly  of  stubs  and  harsh  boulders,  to  which 
condition  many  farmers  reduce  them,  and  call  it  a 
judicious  "  slicking  up." 

I  have  run  widely  away  from  the  little  homestead 
of  my  friend  Lackland ;  so  widely  indeed,  that  I  shall 
not  soon  encounter  him  again.  Whenever  that  may 
be,  I  trust  I  may  hear  that  his  pelargoniums  are  all 
a-bloom — that  his  pig  and  his  cow  are  thriving — hie 
road-side  in  order, — his  Patrick  a  jewel  of  a  man,  and 
that  all  rural  felicities  attend  him. 

NOTE.  — I  have  used  the  term  ' '  Alderney  "  cattle,  as  ap- 
plying in  the  old  sense  to  all  cattle  of  Channel  Island  descent: 
though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  rarely  encounter  any  true 
"Alderneys."  The  talk  nowadays  is  of  Jerseys  and  Guern- 
seys. 


m. 

WA  Y-SIDE  HINTS. 


WA  Y-SIDE  HINTS. 


Talk  about  Porches. 

A  COUNTRY  house  without  a  porch  is  like  a 
man  without  an  eyebrow ;  it  gives  expression, 
and  gives  expression  where  you  most  want  it.  The 
least  office  of  a  porch  is  that  of  affording  protection 
against  the  rain-beat  and  the  sun-beat.  It  is  an  inter- 
preter of  character ;  it  humanizes  bald  walls  and 
windows ;  it  emphasizes  architectural  tone ;  it  gives 
hint  of  hospitality  ;  it  is  a  hand  stretched  out  (figura- 
tively and  lumberingly,  often)  from  the  world  within 
to  the  world  without. 

At  a  church  door  even,  a  porch  seems  to  me  to  be 
a  blessed  thing,  and  a  most  worthy  and  patent 
demonstration  of  the  overflowing  Christian  charity, 
and  of  the  wish  to  give  shelter.  Of  all  the  images  of 
wayside  country  churches  which  keep  in  my  mind, 


ioo  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

those  hang  most  persistently  and  agreeably,  which 
show  their  jutting,  defensive  rooflets  to  keep  the 
brunt  of  the  storm  from  the  church-goer  while  he  yet 
fingers  at  the  latch  of  entrance. 

I  doubt  if  there  be  not  something  beguiling  in  a 
porch  over  the  door  of  a  country  shop — something 
that  relieves  the  odium  of  bargaining,  and  imbues 
even  the  small  grocer  with  a  flavor  of  cheap  hospitali- 
ties. The  verandas  (which  is  but  a  long  translation 
of  porch)  that  stretch  along  the  great  river  front 
of  the  Bellevue  Hospital,  diffuse  somehow  a  gladsome 
cheer  over  that  prodigious  caravansary  of  the  sick ; 
and  I  never  see  the  poor  creatures  in  their  bandaged 
heads  and  their  flannel  gowns  enjoying  their  conva- 
lescence in  the  sunshine  of  those  exterior  corridors, 
but  I  reckon  the  old  corridors  for  as  much  as  the 
young  doctors,  in  bringing  them  from  convalescence 
into  strength,  and  a  new  fight  with  the  bedevilments 
of  the  world. 

What  shall  we  say,  too,  of  inn  porches  ?  Doep 
anybody  doubt  their  fitness  ?  Is  there  any  question 
of  the  fact — with  any  person  of  reasonably  imagina- 
tive mood — that  Falstaff  and  Nym  and  Bavdolph. 
and  the  rest,  once  lolled  upon  the  benches  of  the 
porch  that  overhung  the  door  of  the  Boar's  Head 
Tavern,  Eastcheap  ?  Any  question  about  a  porch, 
and  a  generous  one,  at  the  Tabard,  Southwark — pre- 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  101 

sided  over  by  that  wonderful  host  who  so  quickened 
the  story-telling  humors  of  the  Canterbury  pilgrims 
of  Master  Chaucer  ? 

Then  again,  in  our  time,  if  one  were  to  peel  away 
the  verandas  and  the  exterior  corridors  from  our  vast 
watering-place  hostelries,  what  an  arid  baldness  of 
wall  and  of  character  would  be  left !  All  sentiment, 
all  glowing  memories,  all  the  music  of  girlish  foot- 
falls, all  echoes  of  laughter  and  banter  and  rollicking 
mirth,  and  tenderly  uttered  vows  would  be  gone. 

King  David,  when  he  gave  out  to  his  son  Solomon 
the  designs  for  the  building  of  the  Temple,  included 
among  the  very  first  of  them  (1  Chron.  xxviii.  11) 
the  "  pattern  of  a  porch."  It  is  not,  however,  of 
porches  of  shittim-wood  and  of  gold  that  I  mean  to 
talk  just  now — nor  even  of  those  elaborate  architec- 
tural features  which  will  belong  of  necessity  to  the 
entrance-way  of  every  complete  study  of  a  countiy 
house.  I  plead  only  for  some  little  mantling  hood 
about  every  exterior  door-way,  however  humble. 

There  are  hundreds  of  naked,  vulgar-looking 
dwellings,  scattered  up  and  down  our  country  high- 
roads, which  only  need  a  little  deft  and  adroit  adap- 
tation of  the  hospitable  feature  which  I  have  made 
the  subject  of  this  paper,  to  assume  an  air  of  modest 
grace,  in  place  of  the  present  indecorous  exposure  of 
a  wanton. 


102  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

But  let  no  one  suppose  that  porch-building,  as 
applied  to  the  homely  lines  of  a  staid  old  house  of 
thirty  or  fifty  years  since,  can  be  safely  given  over  to 
the  judgment  of  our  present  ambitious  carpenters. 
Ten  to  one,  they  will  equip  a  barren  simplicity  with 
an  odious  tawdriness.  A  town-bred  girl  will  slip 
into  the  millinery  bedizenment  of  the  town  haber- 
dasher without  making  show  of  any  odious  incon- 
gruity ;  but  let  some  buxom,  round-cheeked,  stout- 
ankle  d  lass  of  the  back  country  adopt  the  same,  and 
we  laugh  at  the  enormity.  In  the  same  way,  every 
man  of  a  discerning  taste  must  smile  derisively  at  the 
adornment  of  an  unpretentious  farm-house  with  the 
startling  decorative  features  of  the  shop  joinery  of 
the  day — the  endless  scroll-work  (done  cheaply,  by 
new  methods  of  machine  sawing) — the  portentous 
moulding — the  arches,  whose  outlines  are  from  By- 
zantium or  the  new  Louvre — columns  whose  propor- 
tions are  improved  from  the  Greeks — capitals  whose 
fretting  sculpture  outranks  the  acanthus.  Seriously, 
I  think  the  carpenters,  if  left  to  their  own  efflo- 
rescence, nowadays,  will  out-match  the  loudest  ex- 
travagances of  the  milliners.  "We  seem  to  have 
drifted  into  an  epoch  of  the  largest  and  crudest 
flamboyance — in  morals,  in  brokerage,  and  in  car- 
pentry. A  sober,  simple-minded  man  is  worse  than 
lost  amongst  the  new  brood  of  architectural  im- 
provers. 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  103 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  I  venture  to  plead  for  a 
wholesome  severity  of  taste  ;  if  simple  material  is  to 
be  dealt  with,  it  should  be  dealt  with  simply.  If  we 
have  a  homely  old-style  house  to  modify  and  render 
attractive,  do  not  let  us  make  its  modification  a 
mockery  by  the  blazon  of  Chinese  scroll-work.  There 
is  a  way  of  dealing  with  what  is  old,  in  keeping  with 
what  is  old,  and  of  dealing  with  what  is  homely,  in 
keeping  with  what  is  homely.  A  sensible  middle- 
aged  lady  of  the  old  school,  if  she  have  occasion  to 
present  herself  afresh  in  society,  and  assert  her  pre- 
rogatives once  more,  will  not  surely  do  so  by  tying 
tow-bags  at  the  back  of  her  head  and  widening  her 
skirts  indecorously.  But  she  will  bring  her  old  man- 
ner with  her,  and  so  equip  the  old  manner  by  the 
devices  of  a  judicious  art  that  we  shall  wonder  and 
admire  in  spite  of  ourselves. 

In  illustration  of  my  views  about  homely  porches, 
I  venture  to  give  upon  the  next  page  a  rough  drawing 
of  one  of  the  plainest  conceivable.  It  is  a  sort  of  cross 
between  the  Dutch  stoop  and  the  lumbering  rooflet 
which  in  old  times  overhung  many  a  doorway  of  a 
New  England  farm-house.  It  offers  shelter  and  rest ; 
it  is  in  no  way  pretentious  ;  it  declares  its  character 
at  a  glance ;  you  cannot  laugh  at  it  for  any  air  of 
assumption  that  it  carries;  you  can  find  no  such 
shapen  thing  in  any  of  the  architectural  books. 


104 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


What  then  ?     Must  it  needs  be  condemned  for  this 
reason  ? 

I  do  not,  indeed,  commend  it  for  any  beauty,  per 
se,  but  as  being  an  honest,  well-intended  shelter  and 
resting-place,  which  could  be  grafted  upon  many  an 


^f.xf«y-<f:^f^-"^s-_ .-  >- ;NT~:  s. 


old-style  farm-house,  with  bare  door,  and  set  off  its 
barrenness,  with  quaint,  simple  lines  of  hospitality, 
that  would  add  more  to  the  real  effect  of  the  home 
than  a  cumbrous  series  of  joiner's  arches  of  tenfold  its 
cost.  In  the  door  itself  I  have  dropped  a  hint  of 
many  an  ancient  door  which  confronts  the  high-road 
in  a  score  of  New  England  villages.  People  do  not 
instruct  their  carpenters  to  build  such  doors  now ; 
yet  I  can  conceive  of  worse  ones,  glazed  up  and 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  105 

down,  with  blue  and  yellow  and  green  glass,  in  most 
irritating  conjunction.  I  do  not  know  that  I  would 
absolutely  advise  the  building  of  those  ancient  divided 
doors  with  their  diamond  "  lights ; "  but  wherever 
they  show  their  quaint  faces,  looking  out  tranquilly 
upon  the  clash  and  turmoil  of  our  latter  half  of  the 
century,  I  would  certainly  cherish  them ;  or  if  I  hung  a 
porch  over  them,  it  would  be  such  a  one  as  should  be 
in  keeping  with  their  quaintness,  and  yet  offer  all 
promise — which  a  sensible  porch  should  offer — of 
shelter  and  rest.  There  is  a  village  I  never  pass 
through  but  I  ache  to  clap  over  one  or  more  of  its 
old-time  doors  (now  battling  without  vestige  of  roof- 
let,  with  sun  and  rain)  some  such  quaint,  overhang- 
ing beacon  of  hospitality  as  I  have  pictured  ;  I  am 
sure  the  houses  would  take  on  a  double  homeliness, 
and  I  should  think  of  all  the  inmates  as  growing 
thenceforth,  every  day,  more  kindly,  and  every  day 
mellower  in  their  charities. 

I  next  give  a  sketch  of  a  little  stone  porch,  which, 
if  I  do  not  mistake,  is  taken  from  some  stone  cottage 
in  Cumberland  County,  England.  It  belongs,  certain- 
ly, by  its  whole  air  and  by  its  arrangement,  to  a 
country  where  stones  of  good,  straight-splitting  qual- 
ity (such  as  gneiss)  are  plentiful,  and  are  used  for 
unpretending  cottage  architecture.  It  would  seem  to 
have  pertained  to  a  house  of  very  modest  character 
5* 


106  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

and  to  one  whose  position  and  exposure  demanded 
special  shelter.  I  think  it  may  offer  a  hint,  at  least, 
of  the  proper  use  of  similar  material  in  our  country. 
We  have  not  half  learned  yet  all  that  may  be  accom- 
plished in  domestic  architecture,  with  the  wealth  of 
stones  scattered  over  our  fields.  Dear  lumber  is 
teaching  us  somewhat ;  but  necessity  will  presently 
teach  us  more.  The  great  cost  of  mason-work  is  in 
the  way  of  any  present  large  use  of  stone  for  building 
purposes,  least  of  all  such  purpose  as  a  cottage  porch. 
But  with  straight-cleaving  stone  at  hand,  such  a 
porch  as  I  have  drawn  could  be  put  together,  with 
all  its  real  effect  (though  not  perhaps  a  great  nicety), 
by  common  wall-layers ;  and  it  is  for  this  reason  I 
have  introduced  it,  hoping  that  some  intelligent  pro- 


prietor who  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  quarries  will 
put  his  hands  to  the  task  of  imitation. 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS. 


107 


I  give  still  another  design  copied  rudely  from 
an  actual  porch  at  Ambleside  (Westmoreland) ;  it 
was  shading  the  door,  some  fifteen  years  since,  oJ 


a  village  curate.  There  were  vines  clambering  over 
it,  which  I  have  omitted,  in  order  to  give  a  full  idea 
of  the  simplicity  of  its  construction.  I  know  it  is  the 
way  of  the  grand  architects  to  sneer  at  all  rustic 
work  as  child's  play ;  but  I  cannot  see  the  pertinence 
of  their  sneers ;  it  is  quite  true  that  rustic  work  will 
not  last  forever — neither  will  we ;  house-holders  and 
architects,  and  all  the  rest  of  us,  have  the  worms 
gnawing  at  our  vitals,  and  the  bark  falling  away,  and 


io8  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  end  corning  swift.  But  a  good,  stanch  tree  trunk, 
cut  in  its  best  season  (late  autumn),  is  a  very  toler- 
able sort  of  God's  work,  and,  seems  to  me,  can  be  put 
to  very  picturesque  uses.  I  don't  think  the  curate's 
porch  is  a  bad  one ;  as  a  hint  for  better  ones,  I  think 
it  is  specially  good. 

Upon  the  question  of  the  use  of  right  material  for 
rustic  work,  there  is  very  much  to  be  said ;  here,  I 
have  only  space  for  a  suggestion  or  two.  There  are 
some  trees  which  hold  their  bark  wonderfully  well ; 
of  such  is  the  sassafras,  which,  after  its  tenth  year, 
takes  on  a  picturesque  roughness  and  a  rhinoceros- 
like  thickness  of  skin,  which  admirably  fits  it  for 
rustic  use.  The  white  ash,  assuming  after  fifteen 
years  a  similar  thickness  of  outer  covering,  holds  its 
coat  with  almost  equal  tenacity.  The  ordinary  "  pig- 
nut "  hickory  holds  its  bark  well ;  the  oak  does  not ; 
neither  does  the  chestnut.  The  cedar  is  perhaps  most 
commonly  employed  for  rustic  decoration ;  cut  in  the 
proper  season,  and  due  precaution  being  taken,  by 
coating  of  oil  or  varnish,  against  the  ravages  of  the 
grubs  (which  have  an  uncommon  appetite  for  the 
sap  wood  of  cedar),  it  may  hold  its  shaggy  epidermis 
for  a  long  time.  I  would  suggest  to  those  using  it 
for  architectural  purposes  a  wash  of  crude  petroleum ; 
it  is  a  wash  that,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  proof  against 
the  appetite  of  all  insects.  Its  objectionable  odor 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  109 

soon  passes  away.  Very  many  of  the  smooth-barked 
trees,  such  as  beech,  birch,  maple,  and  sycamore,  will 
hold  their  bark  firmly  if  precautions  be  taken  to 
exclude  the  air  by  varnishing  the  ends  and  all  such  cuts 
as  have  been  made  by  the  excision  of  a  limb.  Old 
and  slow-growing  wood  will,  it  must  be  observed, 
have  less  shrinkage,  and  maintain  a  better  bark  sur- 
face, than  young  saplings  or  trees  of  rapid  growth. 
But,  irrespective  of  all  questions  of  durability,  is 
there  not  something  rurally  attractive  in  this  unpre- 
tending porch,  whose  columns  have  come  from,  the 
forest,  and  whose  overarching  arms  are  the  arms  that 
overarch  God's  temples  of  the  wood  ?  Not  lacking, 
surely,  some  elements  of  the  beautiful  in  itself;  and 
at  the  door  of  a  village  clergyman,  with  the  ivy  show- 
ing its  glossy  leaflets  in  wealthy  labyrinth,  and  the 
convolvulus  twining  up  at  the  base  upon  whatever 
vine-hold  may  offer,  and  handing  out  its  purple  chali- 
ces to  catch  the  dews  of  the  morning — is  there  noth- 
ing to  be  emulated  in  this?  Let  those  who  love 
Nature's  simplest  graces,  answer. 

On  Not  Doing  All  at  Once. 

THERE  are  a  great  many  ardently  progressive 
people  who  will  be  shocked  by  the  caption 
under  which  I  write.     The  current  American  theory 


i io  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

is,  that  if  a  thing  needs  to  be  done,  it  should  be  done 
at  once, — with  railroad  speed,  no  matter  whether  it 
regards  politics,  morals,  religion,  or  horticulture.  And 
I  wantonly  take  the  risk  of  being  condemned  for  an 
arrant  conservative,  when  I  express  my  belief  that 
there  are  a  great  many  good  objects  in  life  which 
are  accomplished  better  by  gradual  progression  to- 
ward them  than  by  sudden  seizure.  I  shall  not  stay 
to  argue  the  point  with  respect  to  negro  suffrage,  or 
female  suffrage,  or  a  temperance  reformation,  or  the 
clearing  out  of  Maximilian's  Mexican  Imperialism — 
which  are  a  little  removed  from  the  horticultural 
arena,  where  our  humbler  questions  are  discussed — 
but  I  shall  urge  a  graduation  and  culmination  of 
triumphs  in  what  relates  to  rural  life  and  its  charms. 

One  meets,  from  time  to  time,  with  a  gentleman 
from  the  city,  smitten  with  a  sudden  rural  fancy,  who 
is  in  eager  search  for  a  place  "  made  to  his  hand," 
with  the  walks  all  laid  down,  the  entrance-ways  es- 
tablished, the  dwarf  trees  regularly  planted,  the  con- 
servatory a-steam,  and  the  crocheted  turrets  fretting 
the  sky-line  of  the  suburban  villa.  But  I  never  heard 
of  any  such  seeker  after  perfected  beauties  who  was 
an  enthusiast  in  country  pursuits,  or  who  did  not 
speedily  grow  weary  of  his  phantasy.  He  may  take 
a  pride  in  his  cheap  bargain ;  he  may  regale  himself 
with  the  fruits  and  enjoy  the  vistas  of  his  arbor ;  but 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  111 

he  has  none  of  that  exquisitely-wrought  satisfaction 
which  belongs  to  the  man  who  has  planted  his  own 
trees,  who  has  laid  down  his  own  walks,  and  who 
has  seen,  year  after  year,  successive  features  of  beauty 
in  shrub,  or  flower,  or  pathway,  mature  under  his 
ministering  hand,  and  lend  their  attractions  to  the 
cumulating  charms  of  his  home.  The  man  of 
capital,  who  buys  into  an  established  business, 
where  the  system  is  perfected,  the  trade  regular 
and  constant,  the  details  unvaried,  may  very  pos- 
sibly congratulate  himself  upon  the  security  of  his 
gains  ;  but  he  knows  nothing  of  that  ardent  and  in- 
toxicating enthralment  which  belongs  to  one  who 
has  grown  up  with  the  business — suggested  its  en- 
terprises— shared  its  anxieties,  and  by  thought,  and 
struggle,  and  adventure,  made  himself  a  part  of  its 
successes. 

A  man  may  enjoy  a  little  complacency  in  wearing 
the  coat  of  another,  (if  he  gets  it  cheap,)  but  there 
can  hardly  be  much  pride  in  it.  Therefore,  I  would 
say  to  any  one  who  is  thoroughly  in  earnest  about 
a  country  home — make  it  for  yourself.  Xenophon, 
who  lived  in  a  time  when  Greeks  were  Greeks, 
advised  people  in  search  of  a  country  place  to  buy 
of  a  slatternly  and  careless  farmer,  since  in  that 
event  they  might  be  sure  of  seeing  the  worst, 
and  of  making  their  labor  and  care  work  the  lar- 


112  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

gest  results.  Cato,*  on  the  other  hand,  who  rep- 
resented a  more  effeminate  and  scheming  race, 
advised  the  purchase  of  a  country  home  from  a 
good  farmer  and  judicious  house-builder,  so  that  the 
buyer  might  be  sure  of  nice  culture  and  equipments, 
— possibly  at  a  bargain.  It  illustrates,  I  think,  rather 
finely,  an  essential  difference  between  the  two  races 
and  ages  : — the  Greek,  earnest  to  make  his  own  brain 
tell,  and  the  Latin,  eager  to  make  as  much  as  he  could 
out  of  the  brains  of  other  people. 

I  must  say  that  I  like  the  Greek  view  best.  I 
never  knew  of  an  enthusiast  in  any  pursuit, — whether 
grape-growing,  or  literature,  or  ballooning,  or  poli- 
tics,— who  did  not  find  his  chiefest  pleasure  in  fore- 
casting successes,  not  yet  made,  but  only  dimly  con- 
ceived of,  and  ardently  struggled  for.  The  more 
enthusiasm,  the  more  evidence,  I  should  say,  in  a 
general  way,  of  incompletion  and  apparent  confusion. 

Show  me  a  cultivator  whose  vines  are  well 
trained  by  plumb  and  line,  whose  trees  are  every  one 
planted  mathematically  in  quincunx  order,  whose 
dwarfs  are  all  clipped  and  braced  after  the  best  pyra- 
midal pattern,  and  I  feel  somehow  that  he  is  a  fash- 
ionist,  that  he  reposes  upon  certain  formulas  beyond 

*  I  shall  make  no  apology  for  the  introduction  of  these  two 
heathen  names,  since  both  authors  have  written  capitally  well  on 
subjects  connected  with  husbandry  and  rural  life. 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  113 

which  he  does  not  think  it  necessary  to  explore.  But 
where  I  see,  with  an  equal  degree  of  attention,  irreg- 
ularity and  variety  of  treatment, — tendrils  a-droop 
and  fruit-spurs  apparently  neglected, — I  am  not  un- 
frequently  impressed  with  the  belief  that  the  cultiva- 
tor is  regardless  of  old  and  patent  truths,  because 
their  truth  is  proven,  arid  because  his  eye  and  mind 
are  on  the  strain  toward  some  new  development. 

When  a  good,  kind  horticultural  gentleman  takes 
me  by  the  button-hole,  and  tells  me  by  the  hour  of 
what  length  it  is  necessary  to  cut  the  new  wood  in 
order  to  insure  a  good  start  for  the  buds  at  the  base, 
and  how  the  sap  has  a  tendency  to  flow  strongest  into 
the  taller  shoots,  and  other  such  truisms,  which  have 
been  in  the  books  these  ten  years,  I  listen  respect- 
fully, but  cannot  help  thinking, — "  my  dear  good  sir, 
you  will  never  set  the  river  a-fire." 

Nor  indeed  do  we  want  the  river  set  on  fire ;  but 
we  want  progress.  And  all  I  have  said  thus  far  is 
but  preliminary  to  the  truth  on  which  I  wish  to  insist, 
— that  a  graduated  progress  is  essential  to  all  rational 
enjoyment,  whether  in  things  rural,  Christian,  or  com- 
mercial. 

And  for  this  reason  I  allege  that  all  things  which 
are  proper  to  be  done  about  a  country  house,  are  not 
to  be  done  at  once.  Half  the  charm  of  life  in  such  a 
home  is  in  every  week's  and  every  season's  succeed- 


ii4  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ing  developments.  If,  for  instance,  my  friend  Lack 
land,  whose  place  I  have  described  in  previous  pages, 
had  found  a  landscape  gardener  capable  of  inaugurat- 
ing all  the  changes  I  have  described,  and  had  estab- 
lished his  garden,  his  mall,  his  shrubberies,  and  had 
made  the  cliff  in  the  corner  nod  with  its  blooming 
columbines,  within  a  month  after  occupation,  and 
established  his  dwarf  pears  in  full  growth  and  fruit- 
age, there  may  have  been  a  glad  surprise ;  but  the 
very  completeness  of  the  change  would  have  left  no 
room  for  that  exhilaration  of  spirits,  with  which  we 
pursue  favorite  aims  to  their  attainment.  No  trout- 
fisher,  who  is  worthy  the  name,  wants  his  creel 
loaded  in  the  beginning  ;  he  wants  the  pursuit — the 
alternations  of  hope  and  fear ;  the  coy  rest  of  his  fly 
upon  this  pool — the  whisk  of  its  brown  hackle  down 
yonder  rapid — its  play  upon  the  eddies  where  possi- 
bly some  swift  strike  may  be  made — the  sway  of  his 
rod,  and  the  whiz  of  his  reel  under  the  dash  of  some 
struggling  victim. 

It  is  a  mistake,  therefore,  I  think,  to  aim  at  the 
completion  of  a  country  home  in  a  season,  or  in  two, 
or  some  half  a  dozen.  Its  attractiveness  lies,  or 
should  lie,  in  its  prospective  growth  of  charms.  Your 
city  home — when  once  the  architect,  and  plumber, 
and  upholsterer  have  done  their  work — is  in  a  sense 
complete,  and  the  added  charms  must  lie  in  the  genial 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  115 

socialities  and  hospitalities  with  which  you  can  invest 
it ;  but  with  a  country  home,  the  fields,  the  flowers, 
the  paths,  the  hundred  rural  embellishments,  may  be 
made  to  develop  a  constantly  recurring  succession  of 
attractive  features.  This  year,  a  new  thicket  of  shrub- 
bery, or  a  new  gate-way  on  some  foot-path ;  next 
year,  the  investment  of  some  out-lying  ledge  with 
floral  wonders  ;  the  season  after  may  come  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  meadow  (by  judicious  drainage)  where 
some  ugly  marsh  has  offended  the  eye  ;  and  the  suc- 
ceeding summer  may  show  the  redemption  of  the 
harsh  briary  up-land  that  you  have  scourged  into 
fertility  and  greenness.  This  year,  a  thatched  rooflet 
to  some  out-lying  stile ;  next  year,  a  rustic  seat  under 
the  trees  which  have  begun  to  oifer  a  tempting  shade. 
This  year,  the  curbing  of  the  limbs  of  some  over- 
growing poplar ;  and  next  year — if  need  be — a  lop- 
ping away  of  the  tree  itself  to  expose  a  fresher 
beauty  in  the  shrubbery  beneath. 

Most  planters  about  a  country  home  are  too  much 
afraid  of  the  axe  ;  yet  judicious  cutting  is  of  as  much 
importance  as  planting ; '  and  I  have  seen  charming 
thickets  shoot  up  into  raw,  lank  assemblage  of  boles 
of  trees  without  grace  or  comeliness,  for  lack  of  cour- 
age to  cut  trees  at  the  root.  For  all  good  effects  of 
foliage  in  landscape  gardening — after  the  fifth  year — 
the  axe  is  quite  as  important  an  implement  as  the 


Ii6  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

spade.  Even  young  trees  of  eight  or  ten  years 
growth  which  stool  freely — (such  as  the  soft  maple, 
birch,  chestnut,  and  locust,)  when  planted  upon  de- 
clivities, may  often  be  cut  away  entirely,  with  the 
assurance  that  the  young  sprouts,  within  a  season, 
will  more  than  supply  their  efficiency.  Due  care, 
however,  should  be  taken  that  such  trees  be  cut 
either  in  winter  or  in  early  spring,  in  order  to  ensure 
free  stooling,  or  (as  we  say)  sprouting.  The  black 
birch,  which  I  have  named,  and  which  is  a  very  beau- 
tiful tree — not  as  yet,  I  think,  fairly  appreciated  by 
our  landscapists — will  not  stool  with  vigor,  if  cut 
after  it  has  attained  considerable  size ;  but  the  sap- 
lings of  three  or  four  years,  if  cut  within  a  foot  of 
the  ground,  will  branch  off  into  a  rampant  growth  of 
boughs,  whose  fine  spray,  even  in  the  winter,  is 
almost  equal  to  its  glossy  show  of  summer  foliage. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  have  made  my  case  clear ;  but 
what  I  have  wished  has  been  to  guard  purchasers, 
who  are  really  in  earnest,  against  being  disturbed  or 
rebuffed  by  the  rough  aspect  of  such  country  places 
as  commend  themselves  in  other  respects.  The  sub- 
jugation of  roughness,  or  rather,  the  alleviation  of  it 
by  a  thousand  little  daintinesses  of  treatment,  is  what 
serves  chiefly  to  keep  alive  interest  in  a  country 
homestead. 

I  must  say,  for  my  own  part,  that  I  enjoy  often 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  117 

for  months  together  some  startling  defect  in  my 
grounds — so  deep  is  my  assurance,  that  two  days  of 
honest  labor  will  remove  it  all,  and  startle  on-lookers 
by  the  change. 

But  let  no  rural  enthusiast  hope  to  up-root  all  the 
ill-growth,  or  to  smooth  all  the  roughnesses  in  a  year. 
He  would  be  none  the  happier  if  he  could.  We  find 
our  highest  pleasure  in  conquest  of  difficulties.  And 
he  who  has  none  to  conquer,  or  does  not  meet  them, 
must  be  either  fool  or  craven. 


Ploughing  and  Drilled  Crops. 

ONE  of  the  most  striking  of  those  contrasts  which 
arrest  the  attention  of  an  intelligent  agricul- 
tural observer,  between  the  tillage  of  English  fields 
and  those  of  New  England,  as  well  as  of  America 
generally,  is  in  the  matter  of  plowing.  In  England, 
bad  plowing  is  rare  ;  in  New  England,  good  plowing 
is  even  rarer.  Something  is  to  be  allowed,  of  course, 
for  the  irregular  and  rocky  surface  of  new  lands,  but 
even  upon  the  best  meadow  bottoms  along  our  river 
courses,  a  clean,  straight  furrow,  well  turned,  so  as  to 
offer  the  largest  possible  amount  of  friable  mould  for 
a  seed-bed,  is  a  sight  so  unusual,  that  in  the  month  of 
spring  travel  we  might  count  the  number  on  our 
fingers.  I  go  still  farther,  and  say — though  doubtless 


ii8  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

offending  the  patriotic  susceptibilities  of  a  great 
many — that  not  one  American  farmer  in  twenty  knows 
what  really  good  plowing  is.  Over  and  over,  the 
wiseacres  at  the  county  fairs  give  their  first  pre- 
miums to  the  man  who,  by  a  little  deft  handling  of 
the  plow,  can  turn  a  flat  furrow,  and  who  wins  his 
honors  by  his  capacity  to  hide  every  vestige  of  the 
stubble,  and  to  leave  an  utterly  level  surface.  But  a 
flat  furrow,  with  ordinary  implements,  involves  a 
broad  cut  and  a  consequent  diminution  of  depth. 
The  perfection  of  plowing  upon  sward-land  implies,  on 
the  contrary,  little  pyramidal  ridgelets  of  mould,  run- 
ning like  an  arrow's  flight  the  full  length  of  the  field, 
— all  which  a  good  cross-harrowing  will  break  down 
into  fine  and  even  tilth,  like  a  garden-bed.  Yet  again 
and  again,  I  have  seen  such  plowing,  by  Scotch 
adepts,  condemned  by  the  county  wise  men  for  its 
unevenness.  The  flat  furrow  is  not,  indeed,  without 
its  uses  under  certain  conditions  of  the  land,  and  with 
special  objects  in  view — as,  for  instance,  where,  by  a 
fall  plowing,  one  wishes  a  partial  disintegration  of 
the  turf,  in  view  of  a  "  turning  under  "  of  the  whole 
surface  upon  the  succeeding  spring  for  a  crop  of 
roots.  This  is  practised  upon  the  island  of  Jersey  (so 
famous  for  its  dairy  stock)  with  great  success.  The 
sod  is  "  skimmed  "  (such  is  their  term)  in  the  month 
of  November  or  December,  and  with  the  opening  of 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  119 

spring  all  is  turned  under  by  a  plow,  which,  so  far  as 
I  have  observed,  is  peculiar  to  that  island,  and  which 
works  ten  inches  in  depth,  and  requires  a  team  of 
four  horses  for  its  effective  use. 

I  must  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  here  in  regard 
to  American  plows,  which,  from  the  fact  that  they 
have  received  occasional  commendatory  prizes  from 
foreign  committees,  have  been  counted  by  the  san- 
guine superior  to  all  other  implements  of  the  name, 
and  gushing  orators  have  lavished  brilliant  periods 
upon  our  superiority  to  the  world  in  this  branch  of 
agricultural  mechanism.  Nothing  surely  can  exceed 
the  best  American  plows  in  their  adaptation  to  present 
American  needs.  They  are  light,  compact,  strong, 
and  in  rough  lands  are  by  half  more  manageable  than 
the  best  English  implements.  But  supposing  a  great 
reach  of  well-tilled  and  perfectly  cleared  field,  and 
the  improved  iron  Scotch  plow  will  lay  a  far  more 
true  and  even  furrow  with  one  half  the  expendi- 
ture of  manual  force.  Under  such  circumstances,  the 
great  weight  of  the  Scotch  implement.,  added  to  its 
carefully  adjusted  poise,  counts  in  its  favor.  We  shall 
gain  nothing  by  denying  this  and  by  exaggerating 
the  value  of  our  wooden  framework,  which  has  been 
suggested  at  once  by  the  cheapness  of  timber  material 
and  by  the  exigencies  of  a  rough  country.  Nor  have 
I  any  manner  of  doubt  that  as  our  culture  ripens  into 


120  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

seizure  of  all  economic  methods,  our  implement 
makers  will  adapt  themselves  to  the  new  demands 
with  that  shrewdness  which  has  thus  far  been  so 
characteristic  of  their  efforts. 

Again,  we  have  no  regularly  educated  plowmen 
in  America.  Every  man  who  fai'ms  five  acres  of  land 
thinks  he  can  plow — nay,  he  is  in  doubt  if  anybody 
in  the  world  can  do  it  better.  But  good  plowing  is 
a  thing  of  education,  as  much  as  good  preaching,  or 
carpentering,  or  shoemaking,  or  writing.  Nothing 
but  experience  gives  the  final  and  effective  hand- 
ling. With  the  wonderful  division  of  labor  in  all 
old  countries,  every  agricultural  laborer  has  his  special 
province  and  domain  of  work.  And  it  is  quite  absurd 
to  suppose  that  a  man  who  plows  only  a  month  out  of 
the  twelve  can  have  anything  like  that  due  knowledge 
of  the  craft,  which  one  acquires  by  handling  the  plow- 
stilts  every  day,  for  a  hundred  days  in  succession.  It 
is  quite  true  that  under  a  European  sky — whether  of 
Belgium,  France,  or  England — tillage  can  be  carried 
on  far  into  the  winter,  and  that,  therefore,  there  is 
more  occasion  that  a  man  be  educated  for  the  special 
office  of  plowing.  But  whatever  occasion  may  be, 
the  fact  remains  the  same  that,  while  in  Belgium  and 
in  Great  Britain  there  is  an  annual  crop  of  appren- 
tices to  the  plow,  in  America  there  is  none.  Every 
man  who  can  use  a  hoe  or  a  pitch-fork  is  supposed  to 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  121 

be  a  competent  talisman  for  the  plow.  The  result  is 
— very  much  bad  work.  And  I  would  respectfully 
suggest  as  a  subject  to  which  the  newly  inaugurated 
Agricultural  Colleges  may  fitly  turn  a  portion  of  their 
attention,  the  indoctrination  of  a  certain  number  of 
ambitious  young  farmers  (every  fall  time)  into  the 
merits  of  good  plowing.  It  is  not  indeed  to  be  ex- 
pected that  the  purveyors  of  this  Congressional  agri- 
cultural charity  would,  in  most  instances,  be  capable 
personally  of  giving  the  requisite  instruction ;  but 
they  might  avail  themselves  of  the  offices  of  here 
and  there  a  Scotch  farmer  who  would  be  competent 
to  fulfil  the  trust,  and  there  are  always  young  Ameri- 
cans willing  to  learn. 

Another  noticeable  feature  in  European  field  man- 
agement, which  contrasts  strongly  with  much  of 
our  helter  skelter  planting,  is  the  almost  universal 
adoption  of  the  drill  system  in  the  culture  of  all  hoed 
crops,  by  virtue  of  which  fertilizing  material  is  ap- 
plied directly  to  the  plants,  and  the  same  distributed 
— by  a  transverse  plowing  the  succeeding  season — for 
the  benefit  of  the  cereal  which  comes  next  in  rota- 
tion. It  may  be  questionable  if  our  corn  crop  (maize) 
will  not  succeed  best  under  so-called  "  hill "  culture, 
and  with  a  broadcast  application  of  manure,  since  it 
is  a  gross  and  wide  feeder,  and  demands  full  flow  of 
sun  and  air ;  but  in  respect  to  most  other  hoed  crops 
6 


122  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  superior  economy,  as 
well  as  the  more  orderly  appearance  of  the  drill 
system. 

Take  for  instance  our  ordinary  crop  of  potatoes, 
(and  I  think  the  details  of  its  management  were  never 
before  subject  of  discussion  in  a  similar  context ;)  four 
out  of  ten  patches  of  this  worthy  esculent,  are,  in 
New  England  soil,  put  down  in  wavy  lines  of  hills — 
irregular  in  distance,  slatternly  in  culture,  and  yet 
involving  per  bushel  a  far  larger  expense  for  tillage 
and  harvesting,  than  if  dressed,  planted,  cleaned,  and 
earthed  up  according  to  some  system  which  would 
demand  trim  lines,  even  distances,  and  a  complete 
shading  of  the  whole  ground  in  the  season  of  their 
most  rampant  growth.  Perhaps  I  shall  not  be  counted 
too  intolerably  practical,  if  I  indicate  the  actual 
method  of  procedure  which  has  been  sometimes  fol- 
lowed under  my  own  observation.  We  will  suppose 
that  a  good  surface  of  sward-land  (requiring  a  lift  by 
reason  of  its  weediness)  is  turned  over  lightly,  (and 
flatly,  if  you  please,)  in  the  month  of  October.  Noth- 
ing offers  better  pabulum  for  potatoes,  or  indeed 
almost  any  crop,  than  decaying  turf.  In  April  the 
raw  surface  is  levelled  with  a  light  Scotch  harrow, 
and  thereupon  all  is  turned  under  seven  inches  by  the 
best  plow  at  command  with  three  horses  abreast; 
(two  will  weary  of  the  work.)  After  this  the  harrow 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  123 

is  put  on  again,  up  and  down,  and  across.  There  is 
no  fear  of  harrowing  too  much.  This  being  accom- 
plished, and  the  manure  disposed  (since  March)  in 
huge  heaps  at  either  end  of  the  field,  three  deep  fur- 
rows are  opened  at,  say,  two  to  three  rods  apart,  by 
a  plowman  who  can  drive  his  furrow  across  as  straight 
as  the  flight  of  an  arrow.  Immediately  upon  the 
opening  of  the  first,  the  cart  follows,  and  two  men 
strew  the  open  furrow  with  the  half-rotted  manure. 
Another  hand  follows  with  a  sprinkling  of  guano  and 
plaster :  and  still  another  follows  to  drop  the  seed. 
Upon  this  the  plowman  laps  a  furrow  in  way  of 
cover :  two  furrows  follow  as  in  ordinary  plowing, 
and  every  fourth  one  is  treated  as  we  have  described 
with  ample  dressing  and  seed.  Three  series  of  fur- 
rows being  opened  at  the  start,  permit  the  plowman 
to  go  his  rounds  without  interfering  with  the  plant- 
ing and  dressing.  When  the  whole  field  is  gone  over 
after  this  system  it  has  simply  the  appearance  of  a 
thoroughly  plowed  surface.  Nothing  more  is  done 
until  the  young  shoots  begin  to  appear ;  at  this  time 
the  Scotch  harrow  is  put  on,  and  the  land  completely 
weeded  and  levelled,  little  or  no  harm  being  done  by 
this  procedure  to  the  starting  crop.  The  whole  field 
has  thus  the  evenness  and  the  cleanness  of  a  garden. 
Three  weeks  later,  especially  if  the  season  be  favor- 
able to  weed  growth,  it  may  be  necessary  to  go  be- 


124  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

tween  the  rows — now  most  distinctly  and  luxuriantly 
marked  with  tufts  of  green — with  the  cultivator;  and 
no  future  culture  is  needed  until  the  "  earthing- 
up "  process  is  accomplished  with  a  double-mould- 
board  plow.  This  done,  the  crop  takes  care  of  itself 
until  harvesting  time ;  no  hand  hoe,  or  further  culture 
being  essential.  I  venture  to  say  that  the  cost  per 
bushel  is  twenty  per  cent,  less  than  that  by  the  ordi- 
nary, hap-hazard  hand  tillage.  In  addition  to  this 
there  is  the  delight  to  the  eye  of  trim  rows  of  luxu- 
riant foliage,  interlacing  by  degrees,  and  covering  the 
whole  surface  with  a  rich  mat  of  green.  If  the 
experts  in  the  growth  of  this  old  esculent — whether 
in  Maine  or  on  the  Bergen  flats — have  any  fault  to 
find  with  the  method,  I  will  be  a  patient  listener. 


Heads  and  Shade. 

I  LEAVE  potatoes  and  their  culture  for  a  further 
consideration  of  the  more  striking  contrasts  be- 
tween European  and  American  landscape.  Not  the 
least  noticeable  of  these  contrasts  springs  from  the 
vast  difference  in  the  outlay  and  treatment  of  the 
public  roads.  A  neat  and  well-ordered  public  road 
in  any  of  the  rural  districts  of  America  is  altogether 
exceptional.  Throughout  Great  Britain  a  slatternly 
and  ill-kept  one  is  most  rare.  There  is  no  particular 


WAY- SIDE  HINTS.  125 

reason  why  a  cross-country  road  for  farm  traffic  only, 
should  have  the  width  of  a  village  street ;  yet  one 
uniform  turnpike  rule  of  breadth  seems  to  have  pre- 
vailed in  the  laying  down  of  all  countiy  thorough- 
fares in  America :  of  course,  did  the  disposition  exist, 
it  would  by  no  means  be  so  easy  a  matter  to  keep  a 
rambling  highway  of  forty  or  fifty  feet  in  width,  in 
such  orderly  condition  as  a  narrower  one  which  would 
amply  suffice  for  the  traffic.  Neither  towns  nor  tarn- 
pike  companies,  who  mostly  have  American  roads  in 
charge,  have  any  system  in  their  management  or  any 
regard  for  appearances.  Exception  is  to  be  made  in 
favor  of  a  few  public-spirited  townships  (in  Massa- 
chusetts mostly)  which  have  taken  this  matter  boldly 
in  hand  and  encouraged  order  and  thrift  by  whole- 
some regulations  in  regard  to  encroachments  upon 
the  highway,  and  the  judicious  planting  of  trees. 
For  the  most  part,  however,  American  highroads, 
throughout  the  rural  districts,  offer  to  the  eye  two 
great  slovenly  stretches  of  land,  cumbered  with  stones, 
offal,  wood-yards,  and  gaping  with  yellow  chasms  of 
earth,  from  which,  every  spring-time  and  autumn,  a 
few  shovelfuls  of  clay  are  withdrawn  to  patch  the 
road-bed  which  lies  between.  Under  such  conditions 
the  utmost  neatness  and  regularity  which  the  farmer 
may  bestow  upon  his  fields  and  crops  lose  half  their 
effect,  and  the  landscape  lacks  that  completed  charm 


126  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

which  regales  the  eye  along  the  rural  by-roads  of 
England. 

While  town  authorities  continue  to  be  appointed 
for  their  political  aptitude,  it  is  useless  to  hope  for 
any  mending  of  such  defects,  or  for  any  deliberate 
scheme  of  improvement.  The  most  that  can  be  done 
is  by  the  combination  of  adjoining  proprietors,  in 
which  they  will  have  little  to  hope  from  the  coopera- 
tion of  any  town  board  of  advisers.  As  an  instance 
in  point — I  have  repeatedly  offered  to  undertake  full 
charge  of  the  half-mile  of  highroad  leading  through 
farm  lands  of  my  own,  guaranteeing  a  more  serviceable 
condition  than  the  road  has  yet  known,  and  a  dimi- 
nution of  cost  to  the  town  of  at  least  twenty  per 
cent.,  yet  the  proposition  is  ignored.  The  officials 
would  lose  their  little  private  jobbing  in  way  of 
repairs,  and  some  future  board  might  annul  any  such 
disorderly  and  unheard  of  contract. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  planting  of  trees  along  high- 
ways— a  practice  which  many  towns  have  favored  by 
public  action,  and  one  contributing  largely  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  summer's  drive,  as  well  as  adding  to 
the  inviting  aspect  of  our  country  villages.  The  same 
practice  obtains  along  the  great  public  highways  of 
France,  but  not  so  generally  in  England  where  the 
sunshine  is  not  so  common  or  so  fierce  as  to  call  for 
special  protection.  Even  the  country  houses  of  Great 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  127 

Britain  are  by  no  means  so  shaded  as  our  own  ;  and 
the  most  considerable  piles  of  buildings,  snch  as  Eaton 
Hall,  Blenheim,  Dalkeith,  and  Burghley  House,  have 
hardly  a  noticeable  tree  within  stone's  throw  of  their 
walls.  The  flower  patches,  and  coppices  of  shrubbery 
approach  more  nearly,  and  to  the  garden  fronts  of 
those  magnificent  homes  you  walk  through  walls  of 
blooming  shrubs.  But  the  full  flow  of  the  sunshine 
upon  the  window  is  a  thing  courted.  Allowing  for 
all  difference  in  climate,  I  think  there  jnay  be  a  ques- 
tion if  we  do  not  err  in  this  country  by  over-much 
shading.  A  cottage  in  a  wood  is  a  pretty  subject  for 
poetry,  but  it  is  apt  to  be  uncomfortably  damp.  And 
there  are  village  streets  with  us  so  embowered  that 
scarce  a  ray  of  sunshine  can  play  fairly  upon  the  roofs 
or  fronts  of  the  village  houses,  from  June  to  October. 
A  summer's  life  under  such  screen  cannot  contribute 
to  the  growth  of  roses  in  the  cheeks  any  more  than 
to  the  growth  of  roses  at  the  door.  There  is  no  pro- 
vision against  agues — whether  moral  or  physical — 
like  a  good  flow  of  sunshine. 

In  the  establishment  of  new  country  houses  with 
us  I  often  observe  infinite  pains  bestowed  upon  the 
elaboration  of  flower-patches,  and  banks  of  shrubbery 
within  enjoyable  distance  of  the  door,  while  in  the 
midst  of  them,  or  at  such  little  remove  as  works  the 
same  result,  a  great  array  of  shade  trees  is  planted 


128  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

After  omy  a  few  years,  these  gross  feeders  have  seized 
upon  all  the  available  plant-food  within  reach,  and 
with  the  great  lusty  boughs  of  the  maples  waving 
over  his  cherished  parterres,  the  proprietor  is  amazed 
at  the  shrinkage  of  his  flower-growth.  It  should  be 
fairly  understood  that  about  a  densely  shaded  door- 
step, the  conditions  of  vigorous  and  healthful  flower- 
growth  can  never  be  maintained. 

But  far  worse,  and  more  to  be  deprecated  than  a 
starvation  of  the  flowers  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  a  country  house,  is  the  starvation  of  the  turf; 
yet  in  many  of  the  old  established  village  yards,  and 
about  many  suburban  homes  where  the  fancy  for 
dense  overhanging  shade  has  had  full  sway,  even  the 
grasses  maintain  a  doubtful  livelihood,  and  their  place 
is  taken  by  the  wild  mosses.  It  may  be  laid  down,  I 
think,  as  a  safe  rule,  and  of  universal  application  in 
our  Northern  latitudes,  that  wherever  shade  immedi- 
ately contiguous  to  the  house  is  too  dense  for  the  vig- 
orous growth  of  the  ordinary  lawn  grasses,  it  is  too 
dense  for  proper  conditions  of  health ;  and  I  would 
recommend  to  the  invalid  tenants  of  such  a  house — in 
place  of  nostrums — the  axe. 

Of  course,  we  can  hardly  venture  to  expose  our 
whole  frontage  to  the  sun,  in  the  generous  way  in 
which  the  British  country  liver  is  wont  to  do ;  but 
sunshine  on  the  roof  should,  I  think,  be  religiously 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  129 

guarded,  whatever  may  become  of  our  old  favorites, 
the  trees. 

There  is  another  condition  of  English  country 
life — aside  from  the  climate — which  admits  of  a  freer 
play  of  sunshine  than  we  may  be  disposed  to  admit 
it  lies  in  the  fact  that  British  houses,  whether  of 
brick  or  stone,  are  thick-walled  (covered,  many  times, 
with  lichens,  if  not  ivy),  and  so  ward  off  very  effect- 
ually the  fiercest  blasts  of  July.  The  thatched  roofs 
of  Devon  and  of  Somerset  are  an  even  greater  pro- 
tection from  the  sun. 


English  and  American  Hedging. 

A  N OTHER  striking  subject  of  contrast  between 
-£•*-  British  and  American  country  road-side,  is 
offered  by  the  numberless  array  of  live  hedges  which 
belong  to  the  former,  and  which  probably  for  genera- 
tions to  come  will  be  wanting  in  America.  In  the 
best-cultivated  districts  of  England,  however,  hedges 
are  rapidly  losing  favor  for  the  partition  of  arable 
lands,  as  engrossing  too  much  space,  stealing  some- 
what from  the  productive  capacity  of  the  soil,  and 
offering  shelter  for  noxious  weeds.  The  system  of 
soiling  is  moreover  doing  away  with  the  necessity  for 
them,  and  such  ground-feeding  as  is  permitted,  is 
more  closely  and  economically  controlled  by  the 
6* 


130        •  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

adoption  of  movable  hurdles.  The  clearing  up  of 
those  old  lines  of  hawthorn  may  give  delight  to  th 
agricultural  eye,  but  the  lover  of  the  picturesque  will 
lament  their  destruction.  The  cumbrous  hedge-rows, 
too,  of  Devon  and  of  the  Channel  Isles  (huge  dykes 
of  earth  with  hedge  and  trees  springing  from  their 
top)  are  yielding  to  the  demands  of  new  and  progres- 
sive culture.  I  recall  many  a  loitering  of  a  summer's 
day  between  these  huge  banks  of  green,  within  sound 
of  the  Dart,  or  of  the  Exe,  or  of  the  beat  of  the 
water  in  La  Fret — the  primroses  dotting  the  close 
sward,  the  hedges  shutting  out  the  light,  the  scattered 
boles  wound  round  with  cloaks  of  ivy,  the  scant, 
scraggy  limbs  interlacing  above,  and  a  constant  mois- 
ture upon  the  macadamized  way,  giving  life  to  little 
truant  mats  of  mosses.  But  near  to  the  centres  of 
travel  and  improvement,  all  these  delightful  old  ridgy 
banks  of  moss,  and  earth,  and  hedges,  and  trees, 
have  disappeared.  The  keen  tenants,  with  the  per- 
mission of  the  landlords,  are  hunting  them  down  in 
the  retired  districts.  And  no  wonder ;  they  occupied 
full  twenty  feet  in  width ;  every  rod  of  them  shaded 
a  good  perch  of  grain  land ;  they  offered  capital 
breeding  places  for  scores  of  rabbits.  But  though  a 
great  change  is  going  on  in  this  respect,  as  well  as  in 
the  removal  of  many  of  the  hedges  which  mark  the 
interior  divisions  of  the  farms,  the  border  lines,  and 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  131 

the  way-side  still  show,  every  succeeding  spring, 
that  wondrous  wealth  of  white  hawthorn  bloom 
which  is  so  associated  in  the  thoughts  of  all  with 
English  rural  landscape.  Not  always  trim,  it  is  true, 
are  the  hawthorn  hedges  ;  not  without  an  occasional 
interlacing  of  rampant  brambles  ;  not  without  some 
stray  sapling  of  other  growth  cropping  out,  and 
lording  it  over  the  line  of  hedge  ;  but  gnarled,  stiff, 
strong,  waving  with  the  undulations  of  the  hills, 
twining  with  the  curves  of  the  road-way — unbroken, 
save  by  here  and  there  a  stile  or  a  cumbrous  farm- 
gate — with  a  fine  spray  of  interlacing  branchlets  from 
ground  to  top — white,  and  noisy  with  bees  in  all  the 
season  of  bloom — green,  and  wavy,  and  flowing  in 
the  flush  of  the  summer's  growth — carrying  their  red 
haws  through  all  the  early  winter,  and  when  the  light 
snows  (as  they  do,  rare  times)  veil  the  ground,  show- 
ing their  creeping  lines  of  brown  up  the  hills,  and 
athwart  the  hills,  and  in  soldierly  array  flanking  every 
country  by-road. 

When  I  think  of  those  long  billows  of  green  skirt- 
ing the  paths,  and  look  upon  my  prosaic  posts  and 
rails,  it  seems  to  me  plain  enough  that  a  great  bit  of 
the  warp  upon  which  have  been  woven  so  many  of 
the  charming  rural  pictures  in  British  art  and  song, 
is  forever  wanting  to  us  here.  Fancy  a  trim  line  of 
posts  running  across  the  clayey  ground  of  one  of 


132  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Gainsborough's  landscapes !  Fancy  old  Walton  sit- 
ting under  the  "  rails  "  for  a  little  chit-chat  with  hia 
blooming  milk-maid !  Fancy  Milton  planting  his 

Russet  lawns  and  fallows  gray, 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray, 

under  the  lee  of  a  well-morticed  rail-fence  ! 

Yet,  poetry  apart,  we  shall  probably  keep  by  our 
timber  fences  for  many  generations  to  come  in  Ameri- 
ca ;  first,  because,  in  most  parts  of  the  country,  it  is 
good  economy  to  do  so ;  and  next,  because  we  have 
as  yet  no  hedge-plant  which  can  thoroughly  make 
good  the  place  of  the  hawthorn  in  England. 

We  are  able  to  grow  the  hawthorn  indeed ;  but 
it  must  be  done  daintily.  It  will  never  bear  the 
rough  usage  which  its  ordinary  use  as  a  hedge-plant 
for  farm  purposes  involves.  The  same  is  true  to  an 
equal  extent  of  the  buckthorn,  which,  in  addition,  has 
the  bad  habit  of  dying  in  many  of  our  hard  winters  ; 
and  both  these  thorns  are  liable  to  the  attacks  of 
insects  (far  more  pestiferous  with  us,  it  would  seem, 
than  in  Europe),  which  seriously  abridge  their  use. 
The  white-willow,  so  trumpeted  by  bagmen  through- 
out the  country  is  thoroughly  a  humbug.  It  is  indeed 
sadly  derogatory  to  the  good  sense  of  our  rural  popu- 
lation that  pretenders  could  ever  foist  a  claim  in 
favor  of  a  willow,  of  any  known  habit  of  growth, 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  133 

upon  their  acceptance.  The  osage  orange  in  certain 
portions  of  the  West,  and  of  the  Southwest,  promises 
to  be  very  effective.  It  starts  late  in  the  spring,  but 
holds  its  foliage  until  the  frost  withers  it.  In  the 
extreme  North,  and  in  the  Northeast,  its  shoots  are 
liable  to  be  winter-killed,  and  its  own  rampant  growth 
is  also  against  it,  as  an  economic  plant  for  hedging. 
For  effective  treatment  it  requires  two  or  three  clip- 
pings in  the  year.  This  is  more,  we  fancy,  than  the 
holders  of  Western  prairie  farms  will  be  willing  to 
bestow.  After  mature  years  it  may  possibly  show  a 
more  tractable  disposition  in  this  respect.  The  honey- 
locust  has  been  adopted  in  many  quarters,  and  has  its 
sturdy  advocates.  But  it  is  open  to  the  same  objec- 
tion of  a  too  luxuriant  growth  on  congenial  soils,  and 
of  the  still  more  odious  objection  of  a  disposition  to 
"  sucker,"  or  send  up  shoots  from  the  roots  at  a  long 
remove  from  the  parent  stem. 

The  barberry  (Herberts  vulgaris}  is  strongly  com- 
mended by  many,  but  it  has  never  yet  had,  so  far  as 
I  am  aware,  fair  field  trial.  A  strong  objection  to  it 
appears  to  me  to  lie  in  the  fact  that,  like  the  willow, 
it  never  inclines  to  branch  from  near  the  root.  It 
sends  up  indeed  a  great  number  of  shoots ;  but  shoots 
of  this  kind,  growing  parallel,  and  showing  few  leaf- 
lets, or  little  side-spray,  can  never  make  a  compact, 
or  even  a  graceful  hedge.  The  old-fashioned  farmers 


134  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

of  the  East  have  still  another  objection,  as  firmly 
cherished  as  any  dogma  they  listen  to  on  Sunday,  to 
wit, — the  barberry  "  blasts  the  rye."  This  faith  is 
indeed  so  firmly  and  persistently  cherished  that  I  have 
been  disposed  to  look  for  the  source  of  it  in  some 
tribe  of  aphides  peculiar  to  the  barberry,  which  by 
juxtaposition  may  transfer  its  labors  to  the  cereal. 

The  native  white-thorn  remains — and  it  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  with  proper  nursing,  education, 
and  development,  much  might  be  made  of  this  as  a 
hedge-plant.  The  hornbeam,  also,  of  our  forests,  is  a 
small  tree,  of  profuse  spray,  bearing  the  shears  ad- 
mirably ;  but,  so  far  as  I  know,  never  as  yet  adopted 
on  a  large  scale  for  hedges.  The  green  walks  of  the 
gardens  of  Versailles  demonstrate  amply  what  its 
European  congener  will  suffer  in  way  of  clipping. 

In  the  way  of  evergreen  hedge-plants  we  have 
nothing  to  ask  for  from  the  nurserymen  of  Great 
Britain.  Both  the  arbor-vitae  and  the  hemlock  spruce 
are  admirably  adapted  to  the  purpose.  The  beauty 
of  this  latter  nothing  can  exceed,  particularly  in  the 
season  of  its  first  growth  (early  June),  when  its  flossy 
light  green  tufts  hang  over  it  like  a  great  shower  of 
golden  bloom.  The  arbor-vitas  is  perhaps  more  man- 
ageable, and  certainly  less  impatient  of  removal ;  but 
it  can  never  become  so  effective.  The  Norway  spruce 
is  also  admirably  adapted  to  hedge  uses,  and  will 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  135 

bear  (if  treated  early]  the  closest  clipping  of  the 
shears.  The  grand  error  in  its  employment  hitherto 
has  been  in  allowing  it  to  gain  some  three  or  four 
feet  in  height  before  resorting  to  the  clipping  pro- 
cess. 

In  fact,  the  general  failure  of  our  hedge  experi- 
ments throughout  the  country — whether  for  service 
or  ornamentation — may  be  summed  up  in  one  word, 
a  lack  of  care.  Farmers  have  bought  hedge-plants 
by  the  thousand,  and  plowing  a  single  furrow  or  two 
along  the  lines  of  their  fields,  have  set  them  down 
under  the  absurdly  ill-founded  opinion,  that  thence- 
forward they  would  take  care  of  themselves.  But 
the  young  and  tender  hedge-plant,  like  the  young 
growth  of  corn,  needs  culture.  And  the  man  who  is 
too  indolent  or  too  short-sighted  to  bestow  it,  will 
surely  never  reap  any  considerable  reward.  It  is 
amazing — the  short-sightedness  which  prevails  in  this 
regard,  not  only  with  respect  to  hedging,  but  or- 
charding, and  tree-planting  of  all  kinds.  I  count  it 
as  necessary  to  the  vigorous  establishment  of  a  newly- 
set  tree  or  shrub,  that  all  foreign  growth  should  be 
kept  away  from  an  inclosing  circle  of  from  two  to 
four  feet  radius,  as  to  bestow  the  like  attention  upon 
a  hill  of  corn  or  of  melons.  The  little  fibrous  root- 
lets, such  as  give  nursing  to  the  transplanted  stock, 
are  as  impatient  of  any  robbery  of  those  sources  of 


136  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

sustenance,  which  find  their  way  through  the  ground, 
as  the  annual  plants.  We  should  have  heard  far  less 
lament  in  this  country  over  the  failure  of  hedges  if 
there  had  been  more  considerate  treatment  of  them 
during  the  early  years  of  their  establishment. 

If  this  careful  nurture  be  requisite  in  respect  to 
stock  from  the  nurseries,  it  is  ten-fold  more  important 
with  respect  to  young  plants  transferred  directly  from 
the  forest.  Scores  of  failures  I  have  known  on  the 
part  of  those,  who — being  delighted  with  the  appear- 
ance of  some  lusty  screen  of  hemlocks — have  under- 
taken to  rival  it  by  direct  transfer  of  the  wild  growth 
to  some  lean  streak  of  plowed  land,  and  have  there- 
after left  the  shivering  field-pensioners  to  struggle  for 
themselves.  The  half  would  very  likely  or  very  prop- 
erly die ;  the  rest  maintain  only  a  meagre  semblance 
of  life,  and  show  none  of  that  rampant  vigor  which  is 
essential  to  the  beauty  of  a  hedge.  Indeed,  except  in 
fully  kept  garden-ground,  I  would  advise  no  one  to 
make  this  direct  transfer.  A  season  or  two  in  the 
nursery  rows  develops  an  enormous  stock  of  rootlets, 
and  thereafter,  with  ordinary  care,  every  plant  may 
be  counted  on. 

I  doubt  very  greatly  the  serviceableness  of  any  of 
the  evergreen  hedges  for  farm  purposes ;  both  the 
hemlock  and  Norway  spruce,  for  full  development, 
demand  considerable  width,  more  than  would  be  con- 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  137 

sistent  with  farm-economy,  and  much  greater  than 
would  be  ordinarily  accorded  to  the  hawthorn  ;  be- 
sides which,  they  are  by  no  means  proof  against  the 
mischievous  forays  of  cattle,  who  love  nothing  better 
than  to  tangle  their  horns  in  a  wall  of  soft  green  and 
twist  away  the  branchlets.  The  thorn-bearing  shrubs 
are  by  no  means  so  inviting  to  their  ventures  of  this 
sort. 

I  have  not  spoken  of  the  holly — of  which  many 
charming  hedges  are  to  be  found  on  English  estates 
— because  the  British  plant  has  not  proved  itself 
wholly  equal  to  our  climate,  and  the  American  holly 
(besides  being  somewhat  inferior  in  glossiness  and 
density  of  foliage)  has  not  yet  been  commonly  intro- 
duced even  among  nurserymen.  In  the  way,  how- 
ever, of  leafy  screens  for  garden  parterres  and  ter- 
races, I  have  great  hopes  of  what  may  yet  be  accom 
plished  with  our  Rhododendron  and  Kalmia  latifolia. 
The  lank,  lean  habit  of  this  latter  under  its  ordinary 
transplanting  is  no  measure  of  its  capacity  for  making 
a  full,  rounded,  dense  wall  of  green.  Whoever  has 
wandered  over  high-lying  pasture-lands  of  New 
England  which  have  recently  been  cleared  of  their 
forest  growth,  and  has  seen  the  wanton,  luxuriant, 
crowded  tufts  of  Kalmia  shooting  from  the  old  roots, 
can  form  some  measure  of  the  capacity  of  the  shrub 
for  good  screen  effects.  The  lank  growth,  too,  of  the 


138  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Rhododendron  in  a  few  shaded  swamp-lands  where  it 
finds  its  habitat  in  New  England,  is  no  indication  of 
what  may  be  done  with  it  under  fairer  conditions  of 
growth. 

And  this  mention  of  the  laurel  family  (I  like  that 
old  popular  naming  of  these  shrubs)  reminds  me  of 
the  screens  and  coppices  which  greet  the  eye  so  often 
in  English  gardens  and  in  English  landscape.  It  is 
quite  possible  that  with  our  climate,  we  can  never 
equal  their  variety.  The  Bay,  the  Spanish  laurel,  the 
Laurestina,  will  very  likely  be  fastidious  in  adjusting 
themselves  to  our  winters.  But  with  our  narrow- 
leaved  laurel,  our  Latifolia,  our  Rhododendrons,  we 
can  pile  up  a  wealth  of  glossy  green  against  the 
northern  sides  of  our  gardens,  which  even  the  best 
British  farmers  might  envy.  Add  to  these  our 
spruces  (hemlock  and  others),  our  white  pine  (Stro- 
bus),  for  background,  and  we  have  nothing  to  covet. 

But  if  we  have  nothing  to  covet,  we  have  very 
much  to  learn  in  the  adjustment  of  our  leafy  screens. 
Over  and  over  I  observe  some  ambitious  gentleman 
(at  the  hands  of  his  gardener)  attempting  to  establish 
a  protective  coppice,  and  after  careful  and  expensive 
preparation  of  the  ground  (there  is  nothing  lacking 
on  that  score),  placing  his  rare  evergreens  where  they 
will  be  presently  overgrown  and  lost,  or  putting  out 
his  Rhododendrons  where  they  will  have  no  room  for 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  139 

full  and  rounded  development,  or  crowding  his 
spruces,  and  his  Deodars,  and  Scotch  pines,  so  that  in 
a  few  years  there  is  But  a  thicket  of  close-growing 
boles — offering  no  shelter  from  the  wind,  and  graded 
by  no  forecast  of  the  relative  measure  of  growth. 
Or  if,  by  accident,  the  planting  be  judicious,  there 
follows  none  of  that  resolute  trimming  and  bold  use 
of  the  axe,  under  which  only  a  protective  group  of 
trees  can  be  made  to  maintain  its  rounded  symmetry 
and  its  artistic  agreement  with  the  landscape. 

Indeed,  we  are  as  yet  only  beginning  to  learn 
what  the  real  worth  of  screening  banks  of  foliage  are 
to  fruit,  to  gardens,  and  even  to  grain-fields.  It  is 
doubtful  if  it  be  not  the  last  lesson — but  certainly  not 
the  least  important — which  is  learned  in  ornamental 
or  economic  arboriculture. 


Village  Greens. 

IF  I  enter  a  little  quiet  plea  for  the  old-fashioned 
Village  Greens,  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  decried  by 
the  reformers.  Village  Greens  are  not  quotable  at 
the  "  Board."  Our  friend  of  the  Avenue  cannot  dash 
through  them  with  his  equipage.  There  are  no 
patches  of  choice  exotics  upon  the  village  green — 
possibly  not  even  a  serpentine  path ;  no  fountain,  I 
am  sure,  that  shows  the  spasmodic  gush  of  the  city 


140  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

fountains.  And  yet  the  name — Village  Green,  is, 
somehow,  tenderly  cherished ;  it  rallies  to  my  thought 
a  great  cycle  of  rural  memories  belonging  to  song,  to 
childhood,  to  story  and  to  travel — wherein  I  see,  in 
bountiful  procession,  broad-armed  elms,  dancing  peas- 
ants, flocks  of  snowy  geese,  shadows  of  church 
spires,  boys  with  satchels,  bonfires  of  fallen  leaves, 
militia  "  trainings,"  and  some  irate  Betsey  Trotwood, 
making  a  soldierly  dash  at  intruding  donkeys.  It  is 
quite  possible  that  these  ill-assorted  memories  may 
confound  public  and  private  Greens,  as  well  as  Eng- 
lish and  American,  but  all  have  their  spring  in  that 
good  old  name  of  the  Village  Green.  I  hope  that  it 
is  not  a  strange  name,  and  that  it  will  never  grow 
strange  while  grass  is  green,  and  villages  are  founded. 
In  old  days  of  stage-coach  travel,  one  came,  after 
a  tedious,  lumbering  drag  over  hills,  and  through 
swampy  flats,  (where,  if  season  favored,  wild  grape- 
vines, or  white  azalias,  tossed  their  rich  fragrance  into 
coach  windows,)  upon  some  lifted  plateau  of  land, 
where  the  white  houses  shone  among  trees,  flanking  a 
level  bit  of  greensward,  and  geese  grazed  the  com- 
mon ;  and  where  was  a  whipping-post,  may  be — pos- 
sibly a  decaying  pair  of  oaken  stocks,  and  a  court- 
house with  its  belfry.  I  do  not  think  such  old  village 
commons  of  New  England,  (and  I  suspect  they  were 
rarely  to  be  seen  in  other  parts  of  the  country,)  were 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  141 

ever  very  nicely  kept.  The  geese  cropped  the  grass 
short,  to  be  sure  ;  but  a  goose  is  not  a  tidy  animal ; 
the  pool,  too — if  any  pondlet  of  water  broke  the 
surface  of  the  level — was  apt  to  show  the  stamp  of 
adventurous  hoofs  and  a  muddy  margin  ;  for  all  this, 
however,  such  eyelets  of  green  space  in  the  centre  of 
country  towns,  around  which  and  upon  which  all  the 
gayety  and  cheer  of  the  settlement  might  disport 
itself,  were  very  charming.  I  do  not  know  but  I 
would  rejoice  to  see  the  village  stocks  brought  into 
use  again,  for  the  sake  of  the  broad  common  where 
they  stood  :  certain  it  is,  that  if  they  were  ever  ser- 
viceable (I  speak  of  the  stocks),  they  would  be  ser- 
viceable now.  I  think  I  could  mention  sundry  indi- 
viduals— not  all  of  them  editors — who  would  look 
well — sitting  in  the  stocks.  And  as  for  the  whip- 
ping-posts, who  would  not  rejoice  to  see  their 
revival,  provided  only  he  could  name  the  mar- 
tyrs? 

But  I  have  no  right  to  speak  of  the  Village  Green 
as  wholly  a  thing  of  the  past,  although  such  symbols 
of  order  and  discipline  as  the  stocks  and  the  whip- 
ping-post have  gone  by. 

Travellers  rarely  meet  with  them,  it  is  true  ;  but 
we  do  not  travel  by  stage-coach  nowadays.  We  do 
not  face  the  old  orderly  frontage  of  quiet,  outlying 
towns,  as  we  did  when  we  clattered  down  the  main 


142  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES, 

street  to  the  common  and  the  tavern  and  the  pump. 
If  we  travel  thitherward,  we  are  thrust  into  the  back- 
sides of  towns  upon  some  raw  cut  of  a  railway,  amid 
all  manner  of  debris  and  noisome  smells.  Now  I 
suppose  that  old-time  villagers  took  a  pride  in  their 
common,  with  its  stately  trees — in  their  court-house, 
their  breadth  and  neatness  of  high-road,  as  being  the 
objects  which  must  of  necessity  fasten  the  regard  of 
those  from  the  outside  world  who  paid  their  town  a 
visit.  The  two  deacons  who  lived  opposite,  would 
never  decorate  their  door-yards,  or  walks,  for  the 
entertainment  of  each  other,  but  rather  for  the  ad- 
miration of  the  public,  which  must  needs  pass  their 
doors.  But  yet — and  it  is  a  curious  fact  in  the  his- 
tory of  public  taste — in  these  times,  when  old  villages 
are  disembowelled  by  the  railway,  and  all  their  showi- 
ness  turned  inside  out,  there  seems  very  little  regard 
paid  to  the  observation  of  that  larger  public  which  is 
hurtling  by  every  day  in  the  cars. 

The  former  traveller  along  the  high-road,  was  cau- 
tiously placated  with  orderly  palings,  neat  door-yards, 
an  array  of  grass  and  flowering  shrubs,  with  a  church 
in  imposing  position ;  but  the  larger  public  that  now 
visits  the  locality  is  greeted  with  a  terrific  array  of 
backsides,  of  lumbering  styes,  disorderly  fences,  and 
no  token  that  the  village  world  is  cognizant  of  their 
presence,  or  careful  of  their  judgment.  Of  course,  the 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  143 

habit  of  villagers'  life  cannot  be  changed  so  quickly 
as  a  railway  cutting  is  made — the  new  world  of  pro- 
gress may  be  upon  them  before  they  are  aware ;  but 
when  actually  present,  why  not  meet  it  with  some- 
thing of  the  old  tidiness  and  pride  ? 

Can  any  rural  philosopher  explain  us  this  matter  ? 
Does  the  whirl  of  the  world  into  sudden  sight  of  all 
our  disorderly  domesticity,  break  up  self-respect,  and 
weaken  faith  in  appearances  ? 

Here,  and  there  indeed,  I  observe  one  who  newly 
paints  his  rear  door,  and  trims  his  hedges,  and  plants 
his  arbors,  and  gravels  his  walks,  so  as  to  impress 
favorably  the  new  passers-by  of  the  rail ;  but  for  one 
who  shows  this  solicitude  respecting  the  new  public, 
a  dozen  keep  to  a  stolid  indifference,  and  living  with 
their  faces  the  other  way,  leave  the  pigs  and  a  mangy 
dog  to  squeal  and  bark  a  reception  to  the  world  of 
the  railway. 

I  cannot  quite  explain  this.  Most  of  us  love  to 
carry  a  name  for  respectability  and  good  order  and 
decency,  and  do  not  like  to  be  discovered  kicking  the 
cat  or  indulging  in  any  similar  personal  gratifications 
or  wants.  It  is  true  we  do  not  know  one  in  a  thou- 
sand of  the  ten  thousand  who  hurtle  past  our  home- 
stead ;  but  how  many  of  those  who  make  up  the 
body  of  that  public  opinion,  in  the  eye  of  which  we 
•wish  to  live  with  decency  and  order,  do  we  know  ? 


144  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

What  all  this  may  have  to  do  with  the  topic  of 
Village  Greens,  may  be  not  quite  clear  to  the  reader ; 
but  I  will  try  and  develop  its  bearings.  All  the  lesser 
towns  through  which  or  near  to  which  a  railway 
passes,  have  virtually  changed  face ;  they  confront 
the  outside  world  no  longer  upon  their  embowered 
street  or  quiet  common,  but  at  the  "  station."  There 
lies  the  point  of  contact,  and  there  it  must  remain 
until  the  mechanicians  shall  have  devised  some  airy 
carriage  which  shall  drop  visitants  from  the  clouds 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  cosy  old  hostelrie.  There 
being  thus,  as  it  were,  a  new  focal  point  of  the  town 
life,  it  wants  its  special  illustration  and  adornment. 
The  village  cannot  ignore  the  railway :  it  is  the  com- 
mon carrier ;  it  is  the  bond  of  the  town  with  civiliza- 
tion ;  it  lays  its  iron  fingers  upon  the  lap  of  a  hundred 
quiet  valleys,  and  steals  away  their  tranquillity  like  a 
ravisher. 

What  then  ?  Every  village  station  wants  its  little 
outlying  Green  to  give  character  and  dignity  to  the 
new  approach.  Is  there  any  good  reason  against 
this  ?  Nay,  are  there  not  a  thousand  reasons  in  its 
favor  ?  In  nine  out  of  ten  wayside  towns,  such  space 
could  be  easily  secured,  easily  held  in  reserve,  easily 
made  attractive ;  and  if  there  were  no  room  for  a 
broad  expanse  of  sward,  at  least  there  might  be 
planted  some  attractive  copse  of  evergreens  or  slirub- 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  145 

bery,  to  declare  by  graceful  type  the  rural  pride  of 
the  place.  He  would  be  counted  a  sorry  curmudgeon 
who  should  allow  all  visitors  to  make  their  way  to 
his  entrance-hall,  through  wastes  of  dust  and  piles  of 
offal ;  cannot  the  corporate  authorities  of  a  town  be 
taught  some  measure  of  self-respect,  and  welcome  the 
outside  world  with  indications  of  orderly  thrift,  bloom- 
ing and  carrying  greeting  to  the  very  threshold  of 
the  place  ? 

First  impressions  count  for  a  great  deal — whether 
in  our  meeting  with  a  woman,  or  with  a  village.  Slip- 
shoddiness is  bad  economy  in  towns,  as  in  people. 
Every  season  there  is  a  whirl  of  citizens,  tired  of  city 
heats  and  costs,  traversing  the  country  in  hah0  hope 
of  being  wooed  to  some  summer  home,  where  the 
trees  and  the  order  invite  tranquillity  and  promise 
enjoyment.  A  captivating  air  about  a  village  station 
will  count  for  very  much  in  the  decision.  There  will 
be  growth,  to  be  sure,  in  favored  localities,  in  spite 
of  disorder.  I  could  name  a  score  of  little  towns 
along  the  line  of  the  New  Jersey  and  Erie  and  Hud- 
son Railways,  with  their  charming  suburban  retreats 
near  by,  to  which  the  occupant  must  wade  his  way 
through  all  manner  of  filthiness  and  disorderly  debris, 
making  bis  landing,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  dust-heap 
of  the  place,  and  smacking  with  a  relish,  it  would 
eeem,  these  prefatory  incidents  of  his  country  home. 


146  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Is  there  no  mending  this  ?  Will  town  or  borough 
officials  always  remain  insensible  to  the  good  in- 
fluences of  an  inviting  and  decorous  approach  to 
the  territory  which  is  subject  to  their  keeping? 
Dram-shops,  and  oyster-shops,  and  slatternly  land- 
offices,  will  doubtless,  under  our  present  civiliza- 
tion, have  position  somewhere ;  but  must  they 
needs  be  foisted  upon  the  area  about  the  village 
Station?  Must  we  always  confront  a  town  with 
its  worst  side  foremost?  Suppose  for  a  moment 
that  the  old  Village  Green  were  translated  to  the 
neighborhood  of  the  station,  or  a  companion  spot 
of  rural  attractiveness  established  there,  around 
which  the  waiting  equipages  might  circle  in  attend- 
ance— suppose  a  pleasant  shade  of  elms  spreading 
itself  upon  that  now  dusty  area — suppose  the  corpo- 
rate authorities  keenly  alive  to  the  aspect  which  their 
town  and  its  approaches  may  wear  in  the  eye  of  the 
world  which  looks  on,  and  forms  its  -judgment  every 
day  by  thousands — suppose  an  inviting  inn,  duly  li- 
censed, swings  its  sign  under  some  near  bower  of 
trees,  will  all  this  count  nothing  toward  the  growth, 
the  reputation,  the  dignity  of  a  country  locality  ?  I 
know  I  am  writing  in  advance  of  the  current  practice 
in  these  respects ;  but  I  am  equally  sure  that  I  am 
not  writing  in  advance  of  the  current  practice  fifty 
years  hence,  if  only  the  schools  are  kept  open.  The 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  147 

reputation  of  a  town  for  order,  for  neatness,  for  liber- 
ality, or  taste,  is  even  now  worth  something,  and  it 
is  coming  to  be  worth  more,  year  by  year. 


Railway  Gardening. 

I  HAVE  alluded  to  the  railway  station  and  its 
surroundings,  because  it  seems  to  me  that — in 
the  lessons  of  public  taste  which  are  being  read  from 
time  to  time  by  those  competent  to  teach  on  such 
topics — this  new  junction  of  the  world  with  country 
localities  is  being  sadly  overlooked.  Where  indeed 
can  there  be  a  hopeful  opening  for  any  aesthetic  teach- 
ing, if  this  inoculation  and  grafting-point  of  the  busi- 
ness world  with  the  world  ruminant  and  rural,  is  al- 
lowed to  fix,  with  all  its  ugly  swell  of  swathing  band- 
ages and  pitch  and  mud,  un cared  for  ? 

The  question  of  proprietorship  might  give  some 
difficulty,  but  it  is  one  whose  difficulties  would  vanish, 
if  only  the  corporate  authorities  of  town  and  road 
could  be  brought  to  act  in  harmony.  Nor  is  there 
any  reason  in  the  economies  of  the  matter  why  they 
should  not.  The  road  secures  a  limited  area  for  the 
establishment  of  its  station,  and  some  outlying 
grounds,  in  most  cases,  to  guard  against  future  con- 
tingencies— which  grounds  usually  rest  in  a  most 


148  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

forlorn  condition,  giving  refuge,  may  be,  to  con- 
demned sleepers  or  wreck  of  wheels — possibly  ten- 
anted by  some  burly  night  porter,  who  thrusts  his 
stove-pipe  through  the  roof  of  a  dismantled  car — 
showing  just  that  disarray,  in  short,  which  declares 
no  pride  or  proof  of  ownership.  If  there  chance  to 
be  any  half-filled  pits  upon  the  premises,  enterprising 
Celtic  citizens  of  the  neighborhood  count  them  good 
spots  into  which  to  shoot  their  garbarge.  All  this 
the  town  authorities  regard  as  a  matter  which  con- 
cerns only  the  distinguished  corporation  of  the  road. 
Thus,  between  them,  the  most  unkempt  and  noisome 
wilderness  about  the  half  of  such  of  our  country 
towns  as  are  pierced  by  railways  is  apt  to  lie  in  the 
purlieus  of  the  station.  Yet  railway  directors  are, 
some  of  them,  professing  Christians,  and  so  are  town 
authorities — at  times.  What  now  if  these  good  peo- 
ple (hcec  verbi  magnificentia  /)  would  lay  their  heads 
together  to  compass  what  might  prove  a  gain  to  the 
town  thrift,  and  so  indirectly  to  the  road,  without 
positive  loss  to  either  ?  What  if  the  town  were  to 
extend  the  area  of  the  corporation  lands  at  its  own 
cost,  so  far  as  to  establish  a  little  bowling  green,  that 
should  give  piquant  welcome  to  every  stranger,  and 
grow  to  be  an  object  of  town  pride  ?  What  if  care 
of  all  grounds  adjoining  the  station  should  be  subject 
to  some  custodian,  bound  to  control  them  after  some 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  149 

simple  prescribed  rules  of  order,  whose  fulfilment 
would  work  an  economy  to  the  company,  and  add  a 
grace  to  that  portion  of  the  village  ? 

I  cannot  help  recalling  to  mind  here  some  of 
those  charming  wayside  stations  upon  the  Continent 
— in  France,  Germany,  and  Switzerland — where  the 
station-master  is  also  manager  of  a  blooming  garden 
(the  property  of  the  company),  which  he  manages 
with  such  tender  care  that  the  blush  of  the  roses  and 
the  muffled  scent  of  the  heliotropes  come  to  me  again 
as  I  read  the  name  of  the  station  upon  the  Guide 
Book.  And  yet  those  French,  those  German,  those 
Swiss  corporators,  who  encourage  their  station-mas- 
ters to  such  handicraft,  are  shrewd  money  men. 
They  find  their  account  in  all  this  ;  they  like  to  make 
their  roads  attractive  ;  the  way-side  villagers  encour- 
age them  in  it  to  the  full  bent  of  their  capacity. 

In  one  quarter  (among  those  stations  of  which  I 
speak,  but  I  cannot  now  just  say  where)  I  was  pro- 
voked into  special  inquiries  :  "  This  nice  treatment 
involved  a  great  bill  of  expense  doubtless  ?  " 

"  Yery  great  care — grand  labor !  " 

"  It  must  make  a  heavy  bill  for  the  company  to 
foot  ?  " 

"Pardon,  monsieur,  the  work  is  mine  and  the 
gain  is  mine." 

"  Not  very  much,  it  is  to  be  feared." 


ISO  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

"  Pardon  "  again ;  the  station-master  (it  was  only 
an  out  of  the  way  country  station)  has  sold  enough 
of  bouquets  to  passing  travellers  to  establish  his  boy 
at  a  pension:  he  hopes  everything  for  his  boy.  The 
story  gave  a  new  fragrance  to  the  roses,  and  to  the 
Marguerites  which  he  handed  me. 

Now,  I  am  afraid  our  station-masters,  whether  in 
Massachusetts  or  along  the  Hudson,  will  not  be  ca- 
pable of  making  themselves  good  florists  at  a  bound; 
but  yet  the  hint  has  its  value.  What  objection  can 
there  possibly  be  to  the  careful  culture  of  such  strips 
of  land  as  come  within  the  jurisdiction  of  every  sta- 
tion-master upon  our  iron  roads  ?  In  not  infrequent 
instances  he  has  the  lea  of  some  deep  cutting  for 
shelter ;  he  has  the  eyes  of  an  observing  crowd  (who 
are  debarred  from  pilfering)  for  an  incentive ;  he  may 
have  his  thousand  customers  for  floral  offerings  every 
summer's  day.  Could  not  the  townsfolk  aid,  with 
prudent  foresight,  in  any  such  diversion  of  the  waste 
strips  of  railway  lauds  ?  The  area  in  gross  is  not 
small ;  miles  upon  miles  of  bank  cutting,  of  marsh 
land,  of  embankment,  of  green  level,  each  one  of 
which  will  grow  its  own  crop  after  methods  which  a 
wealthy  and  intelligent  railway  corporation  might 
surely  direct.  Osiers  upon  the  low  lands,  shrubs 
upon  the  raw  cuttings  (binding  them  against  wash), 
grasses  upon  the  verdant  lands,  a  flame  of  flowera 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  151 

around  every  station.  Does  anybody  doubt  that  this 
thing  is  to  be  in  the  years  to  come  ?  Does  anybody 
doubt  (who  believes  in  progress)  that  some  day  the 
directors,  now  so  stolid  and  indifferent,  will  make  a 
merit  of  it,  and  take  a  pride  in  pointing  out  their 
horticultural  successes  upon  their  league-long  strips 
of  garden? 

One  very  great  advantage  in  that  nice  culture 
which  is  to  be  observed  about  many  of  the  British 
and  Continental  railway  stations  lies  in  the  fact,  that 
the  culture  and  its  success  are  submitted  every  day  to 
thousands  of  eyes.  What  you  or  I  may  do  very  suc- 
cessfully, and  in  obedience  to  the  best  laws  of  taste 
and  vegetable  physiology  on  some  back  country  prop- 
erty, may  really  benefit  the  public  very  little,  for  the 
reason  that  the  public  will  never  put  eye  upon  it ; 
but  what  our  horticultural  friend  at  a  railway  station 
may  do  (if  done  well)  is  of  vastly  more  profit.  It  is 
in  the  way  of  being  seen  ;  it  is  in  the  way  of  being 
seen  of  those  who  are  not  immediately  engrossed 
with  other  care  than  the  easy  care  of  travel ;  it  gives 
suggestions  to  them  in  their  most  accessible  moods. 
To  this  day  I  think  I  have  fixed  in  my  mind  many  a 
little  gracefully  arranged  parterre  of  bloom,  only 
petunias  and  pansies  and  four  o' clocks,  may  be,  which 
I  saw  only  a  few  moments  on  some  day,  now  far 
gone,  in  other  latitudes,  and  of  which  the  scant 


152  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

memorial  is  but  some  jotting  down  upon  a  foreign 
note-book,  followed  by  a  scant  pencilling  of  the  actual 
adjustment,  so  far  as  the  brief  stay  allowed  of  tran- 
script. 

The  chemists  tell  us  that  the  air  of  cities  and  their 
neighborhood  is  richer  in  available  nitrogen  (in  shape 
of  ammonia  or  nitric  acid)  than  the  air  of  the  country, 
by  reason  of  the  outpourings  from  so  many  chimney- 
tops,  and  the  attendant  processes  of  combustion.  May 
not  the  cinders  and  the  fine  ash  and  the  gases 
evolved  from  a  great  higlnvay  of  engines  always 
puffing  and  smoking  in  the  lower  strata  of  the  atmo- 
sphere contribute  somewhat,  and  that  not  inconsider- 
ably, to  the  plants  found  along  the  lines  of  such  high- 
way ?  I  am  not  aware  that  experiment  has  as  yet 
determined  anything  on  this  score ;  and  whatever 
such  determination  might  be,  it  is  certain  that  abund- 
ant sources  of  fertilization  might  be  secured  at  every 
country  station,  sufficient  amply  to  equip  an  invest- 
ing garden.  Upon  the  oldest  roads  very  much  could 
be  done  still  in  way  of  this  charming  investiture,  and 
in  way  of  the  adjoining  bowling-green,  under  encour- 
agement of  the  town,  or  of  neighboring  property- 
holders  ;  and  upon  all  new  lines  of  raihvay,  wherever 
new  stations  are  established,  everything  could  be 
done.  To  make  a  township  attractive,  the  approach 
to  it  must  be  attractive.  Will  not  our  Western 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  153 

burghers  who  are  interested  in  the  growth  of  town- 
ships make  a  note  of  this  fact,  and  do  somewhat  for 
the  benefit  of  the  coming  generation  as  well  as  for 
their  own  advantage,  by  so  ordering  the  establish- 
ment of  railway  stations  as  to  determine  and  insure 
the  attractive  features  I  have  named  ? 


Landscape  Treatment  of  Railways. 

\\J  HILE  upon  this  subject  of  railway  gardens 
»  *  and  culture,  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  all  who 
have  lands  adjoining  upon  these  iron  clamps  of  our 
present  civilization.  A  great  accession  of  responsi- 
bility comes  to  them  by  reason  of  their  position.  A 
slatternly  wall,  a  disgraceful  method  of  tillage,  a  reek- 
ing level  of  undrained  land,  in  far  away  districts,  may 
corrupt  but  few  young  farmers  and  confirni  them  in 
bad  practices,  by  reason  of  their  isolation.  But  upon 
a  great  highway  of  travel,  where  a  thousand  eyes 
measure  the  shortcomings  day  by  day,  a  good  or  a 
bad  example  will  have  a  hundred-fold  force. 

It  would  seem,  indeed,  as  if  a  shrewd  business 
economy  would  commend  care  and  nicety  of  tillage. 
The  adventurous  hair-dressers  and  fabricators  of  a 
myriad  nostrums,  paint  their  advertisements  on  the 
rocks ;  what  better  advertisement  of  a  farm  or  garden, 
7* 


154  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

or  nursery  or  wood  or  meadow,  than  such  equipment 
of  them  all  with  the  best  results  of  thorough  care 
and  culture,  as  to  fasten  the  eye  and  pique  investiga- 
tion ?  I  know  a  suburban  architect  who,  by  the  har- 
monies and  order  of  a  homestead,  in  full  view  of  a 
thousand  travellers  a  day,  has  doubled  his  business. 
So  the  grace  of  a  parterre  or  the  artistic  arrangement 
of  a  terrace  or  a  walk  in  the  eye  of  so  many,  may 
make  the  reputation  of  a  gardener.  Every  dweller, 
indeed,  upon  a  line  of  railway,  has  a  reputation  to 
make  or  lose  in  all  that  relates  to  his  treatment  of 
ground,  whether  as  woodland,  farm,  or  garden. 

If  the  homestead  be  so  near  the  clatter  of  the 
trains  as  to  give  too  great  exposure  of  the  domestic 
offices,  good  taste,  as  well  as  the  quiet  which  most 
country-livers  enjoy,  will  suggest  a  planting  out  of 
the  line  of  traffic  by  thickets  of  evergreens ;  and 
these,  by  their  careful  adjustment,  and  occasional 
openings  for  a  glimpse  at  the  more  attractive  features 
of  the  situation,  will  themselves  give  such  a  place  a 
character.  If,  however,  the  house  be  so  remote  as  to 
admit  of  all  desired  seclusion  about  the  dooryard 
and  to  yield  only  distant  views  of  the  trail  of  carri- 
ages whirling  up  their  white  curls  of  steam,  a  mere 
hedge  may  mark  the  dividing-line,  or  some  simple 
paling ;  and  the  lands  between,  whether  in  lawn  or 
tillage,  may  be  so  ordered  as  to  greet  the  eye  of 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  155 

every  intelligent  traveller,  or  impress  upon  him  such 
rural  lessons  as  every  adjoining  proprietor  should 
make  it  a  virtue  to  teach. 

When  a  farm  or  country-seat  is  traversed  by  a 
deep  cutting  for  the  railway  bed — so  deep  as  to  for- 
bid any  extended  side  views — a  tasteful  proprietor 
may  still  mark  his  lands  noticeably,  and  well,  by 
arranging — in  concert  with  the  railway  officials — an 
easily  graded  slope  upon  either  side  of  the  cutting, 
which,  by  a  few  simple  dressings,  shall  be  brought 
into  a  grassy  surface — telling  a  good  story  for  the 
flats  above,  and  showing  upon  their  extreme  height  a 
skirting  hedge-row  or  coppice,  or  possibly  the  trellis 
of  some  rustic  paling,  blooming  with  flowers,  and  (it" 
convenience  of  pathway  require  it)  stretching  upon 
either  side  of  a  bridgelet,  across  the  chasm  of  the 
road.  Even  where  such  cutting  is  through  cliff,  noth- 
ing is  to  forbid  the  dressing  of  the  higher  ledges  with 
a  few  crimson  bunches  of  columbines,  to  nod  their 
heads  between  the  eye  of  the  traveller  and  the  sky, 
and  make  good  report,  from  their  little  corners,  of  the 
people  whose  every-day  walk  skirts  the  cliffs.  If  a 
gradual  slope,  or  terraces,  are  admissible  by  the 
nature  of  the  cutting,  it  is  a  question  if  these  may  not 
be  made  to  carry  their  parterres  of  flowers,  or  of 
blooming  shrubs,  to  give  charm  to  the  borders  of  an 
estate.  I  have  somewhere  seen  such  slope,  whereon 


156  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

an  adventurous  nurseryman  had  given  advertisement 
of  his  name  and  calling  by  an  ingenious  arrangement 
of  his  box-borders  in  gigantic  lettering — not,  perhaps, 
a  very  legitimate  rural  decoration,  or  such  as  a  severe 
taste  would  commend — and  yet  I  cannot  but  think 
that  a  little  trail  of  fiery  flowers,  scattered,  as  it  were, 
upon  a  bank  of  lawn,  and  spelling  out  some  graceful 
name  (of  the  homestead),  which  should  be  discerni- 
ble only  one  swift  moment  as  the  train  flashed  by 
while  to  one  looking  forward  or  backward,  it  should 
be  only  a  careless  ribbon  of  flowers  flecking  the  green 
— I  say  I  can  hardly  fancy  that  this  would  smack  of 
tawdriness.  However  this  may  be,  devices  there  are, 
innumerable,  for  conferring  grace  upon  such  sudden 
slopes  as  I  have  hinted  at :  a  slope  to  the  north  will 
carry  admirably  its  tufts  of  rhododendron  and  of 
kalmia,  or  its  confused  tangle  of  hemlocks  and  Law- 
son  Cypress. 

The  English  ivy,  too,  will  grow  admirably  in  such 
situations,  upon  a  ground  surface,  taking  root  here 
and  there,  and  covering  all  the  lesser  inequalities 
with  its  glossy  network  of  leaves.  Such  condition 
of  growth,  moreover,  (trailing  over  the  surface  of  the 
ground,)  insures  protection  by  snows  ;  or,  if  that  be 
wanting,  a  thin  coating  of  litter  spread  over  the 
creeper  will  be  an  ample  defence.  The  ivy  is  winter- 
killed, not  so  much  by  extreme  cold,  as  by  sudden 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  157 

alternations  of  temperature,  and  exposure  of  its  stiff 
ened  leaves  to  the  scalding  sunbeams  which  some- 
times belong  even  to  a  northern  winter.  Protection 
from  the  January  sun  is,  I  believe,  as  important  as 
protection  from  extreme  cold. 

Where  the  railway  passes  through  a  country  prop- 
erty upon  the  same  general  level  with  a  lawn  surface 
or  farm  lands,  the  rules  for  adjustment — of  crops  or 
of  decorative  features — so  as  to  carry  their  best  land- 
scape effects,  will  be  comparatively  easy.  All  right 
lines — whether  of  annual  crops,  hedge-rows,  or  ave- 
nues— will,  of  a  surety,  lose  effect  by  being  established 
parallel  to  the  line  of  road.  At  what  angle  they 
should  touch  upon  it,  will  be  best  determined  by  the 
nature  of  the  surface,  and  by  the  conditions  of  the 
background. 

I  know  that  it  is  the  habit  of  many  who  control 
large  estates  adjoining  railways,  to  ignore,  so  far  as 
possible,  this  iron  neighbor,  and  to  make  all  their 
plans  of  improvement  with  a  contemptuous  disregard 
of  the  travelling  observers,  who  count  by  thousands, 
considering  only  the  few  who  look  on  from  the  old 
high-road,  or  those,  still  fewer,  who  have  the  privilege 
of  the  grounds.  But  in  a  republican  country,  this  is 
monstrous ;  monstrous,  indeed,  in  any  country  where 
a  man  properly  reckons  his  responsibilities  to  his  fel- 
lows. If  he  has  conceived  new  lessons  of  taste,  it  is 


158  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

his  duty  so  to  illustrate  them  as  to  make  them  command 
the  acceptance  of  the  multitude.  He  has  no  right  to 
ignore  the  onlook  of  the  world,  and  be  careless  if  the 
world  condemns  or  approves. 

A  high  railway  embankment  traversing  the  low 
lands  of  a  country  estate,  if  at  a  good  remove  from 
the  homestead,  is  not  so  awkward  a  matter  to  deal 
with  as  might  at  first  be  supposed.  A  few  years  of 
well-tended  growth  in  a  forest  screen  may  be  made 
to  exclude  it  altogether ;  but  care  should  be  taken 
lest  such  screen,  by  its  uniformity,  should  present  the 
same  tame  outlines  with  the  embankment  itself.  To 
avoid  this,  the  woody  plantation  should  flow  down  in 
little  promontories  of  shrubbery  upon  the  flat ;  it 
should  have  its  open  bays  upon  the  embankment  it- 
self, disclosing  at  intervals  a  glimpse  of  the  passing 
trains ;  and,  above  all,  the  bridge  or  culvert,  which 
keeps  good  the  water-courses  of  the  land,  should  be 
distinctly  indicated,  and  might  have  its  simple  deco- 
rative features. 

All  this,  if  picturesque  effect  only  is  aimed  at : 
but  if  it  be  desirable  to  utilize  such  monster  embank- 
ment, it  may  be  remembered  that  its  shelter,  if  look- 
ing to  the  south,  would  almost  create  a  summer  cli- 
mate of  its  own,  and  would  make  admirable  lee  for 
the  forcing-houses  of  the  gardeners,  and  for  the 
growth  of  whatever  plants  or  vegetables  crave  the 


WAY-SIDE  HINTS.  159 

first  heats  of  the  spring  sun.  The  traveller  will  recall 
the  "  little  Provence,"  in  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries, 
where,  by  the  mere  shelter  of  a  twelve-foot  terrace  wall 
circling  around  against  cool  winds,  a  summer  balmi- 
ness  is  given  to  the  locality  even  in  winter,  and  phthi- 
sical old  men  and  feeble  children  find  their  way 
thither  to  luxuriate  in  the  sunshine. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  such  embankment  flank  the 
north,  its  shadow  will  offer  capital  nursery-ground  for 
the  rhododendrons,  ivies,  and  all  such  plants  as  are 
impatient  of  the  free  blast  of  the  sun. 

And,  after  all,  if  these  happy  accidents  of  posi- 
tion and  opportunity  did  not  favor  such  special  culture, 
it  should  be  the  duty  and  the  pride  of  the  true  artist 
in  land-work  to  ascertain  what  other  growths  would 
be  promoted  by  exceptional  disturbances  of  surface. 
The  finest  and  highest  triumphs  in  landscape  art  are 
wrought  out  in  dealing  with  portentous  features  of 
ugliness,  and  so  enleashing  them  with  the  harmonies 
of  a  given  plan  as  to  extort  admiration. 

The  railway,  with  its  present  bald  embankments, 
and  its  baldness  of  all  sorts,  is  a  prominent  feature  in 
many  of  our  suburban  landscapes.  It  cannot  be 
ignored,  and  the  study  must  be  to  harmonize  its 
sweep  of  level  line,  its  barren  slopes,  its  ugly  scars, 
its  deep  cuttings,  with  the  order  and  grace  of  our 
fields  and  homes.  Rains  and  weather-stains  and  wild 


160  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

growths  are  doing  somewhat  to  mend  the  harshness  ; 
but  a  little  artistic  handling  of  its  screening  foliage, 
and  adroit  seizure  of  the  opportunities  furnished  for 
special  culture,  will  quicken  the  work.  And  it  is  to 
this  end  that  I  have  thrown  out  these  hints  upon  so 
novel  a  subject  as  that  of  railway  gardening. 


IV. 
LAYING    OUT  OF  GROUNDS. 


LAYING  OUT  OF  GROUNDS. 


landscape  Gardening. 

IS  it  an  art  or  a  trade  that  I  propose  for  discus- 
sion ?  I  think  it  is  an  art.  The  backwoodsman 
would  not  agree  with  me  ;  there  are  many  plethoric 
citizens  who  would  not  agree.  Good  roads,  and  paths 
laid  where  you  want  them,  and  plenty  of  shade  trees 
— is  there  anything  more  than  this  in  the  laying  out 
of  grounds  ?  Is  there  any  finesse,  any  special  aptitude 
requisite,  or  anything  that  approaches  the  domain  oi' 
art  in  managing  the  matter,  as  such  matter  should  be 
managed  ? 

I  think  there  is ;  and  that  it  is  an  art  as  yet,  in 
this  country,  almost  in  its  infancy ;  and  yet  an  art 
instinctively  appreciated  by  cultivated  persons  wher- 
ever it  declares  itself,  whether  upon  a  small  or  a  large 
area. 


164  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

We  have  admirable  engineers  who  can  lay  down 
an  approach  road,  or  other,  with  easy  grades,  and 
great  grace — so  far  as  the  curves  count  for  grace  ;  and 
we  have  gardeners  who  shall  lay  down  your  flower- 
beds and  grounds  for  shrubbery  according  to  the 
newest  rules,  and  with  great  independent  beauties  in 
themselves  ;  but  it  is  quite  possible  that  both  these 
classes  of  workers  may  fill  their  designs  admirably, 
and  yet  steer  clear  of  the  great  principles  of  the  art  I 
purpose  to  discuss.  It  is  an  art  which  takes  within 
its  purview  good  engineering  and  good  architectural 
work,  and  good  gardening,  and  good  farming,  if  you 
please ;  but  which  looks  to  their  perfect  accordance — 
which  dominates,  in  a  sense,  the  individual  arts 
named,  and  accomplishes  out  of  the  labors  of  each  a 
congruous  and  captivating  whole. 

Good  farming,  good  gardening,  good  engineering, 
and  good  architecture  may  stand  side  by  side  upon  a 
given  estate,  and  yet,  for  want  of  due  conception  of 
what  the  landscape  really  demands  for  its  completed 
charm,  the  effect  may  be  incongruous  and  unsatisfy- 
ing. Over  and  over  again  a  wealthy  proprietor  seeks 
to  supply  the  somewhat  that  is  lacking  by  inordina- 
tive  and  cumulative  expenditure :  he  may  thus  make 
outsiders  wonder  and  gape ;  he  may  also  secure  a 
great  assemblage  of  individual  beauties ;  but  the 
charming  oneness  of  effect  which  shall  make  his  place 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  165 

an  exemplar  of  taste  and  a  perpetual  delight  is  some- 
bow  wanting. 

The  true  art  of  landscape  gardening  lies  in  such 
disposition  of  roadways,  plantations,  walks,  and  build- 
ings as  shall  most  effectively  develop  all  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  land  under  treatment,  without  con- 
flicting (or  rather  in  harmony)  with  the  uses  to  which 
such  lands  may  be  devoted.  Thus,  in  a  private  estate, 
home  interests  and  conveniences  must  be  kept  steadily 
in  view,  and  these  must  never  be  sacrificed  for  the 
production  of  a  pictuesque  effect,  however  striking  in 
itself.  Again,  in  a  public  park  the  same  law  obtains, 
and  any  good  design  for  such  must  show  great  ampli- 
tude of  road sv ay,  and  broad,  open  spaces  for  the  dis- 
port of  the  multitude.  Upon  farm-lands,  which  I 
hold  to  be  not  without  the  domain  of  landscape  treat- 
ment, there  must  be  due  regard  to  the  offices  of  rural 
economy,  and  the  decorative  features  may  be  safely 
brought  out  in  the  shape  of  gateways,  belts  of  pro- 
tecting shrubbery,  or  scattered  coppices  upon  the 
pasture-lauds.  Upon  ground  entirely  level,  the  range 
of  possible  treatment  is,  of  course,  very  much  limited ; 
but  the  true  artist  in  landscape  effects  can  do  some- 
thing even  with  this ;  no  architect  worthy  of  the 
name  despairs  if  he  is  confined  to  four  walls  of  even 
height ;  in  his  own  art,  if  he  loves  it,  he  finds  deco- 
rative resources. 


1 66  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  possibility  of  artistic  land- 
scape treatment  in  connection  with  farm-lands  ;  this 
opinion  is,  I  am  aware,  opposed  to  the  traditional 
theory  of  the  British  writers  upon  the  subject ;  but 
we  are  living  in  advance  of  a  good  many  traditions 
of  that  sort.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  keeps  the 
open  glades  of  his  park-land  short  and  velvety  by  his 
herd  of  fallow  deer.  Our  wealthy  citizen,  on  the 
other  hand,  will  probably  keep  his  largest  stretch  of 
level  land  in  presentable  condition  with  a  Buckeye 
Mower,  and  will  depend  upon  the  cutting  as  a  win- 
ter's baiting  for  his  Alderney  heifers ;  but  this  will 
not  forbid  an  occasional  group  of  oaks  or  maples,  or 
the  massing  of  some  graceful  shrubbery  around  an 
intruding  cliff.  It  will  never  do,  indeed,  for  us  as 
Americans  to  sanction  the  divorce  of  landscape  from 
our  humbler  rural  intentions— else  the  great  bulk  of 
our  wayside  will  be  left  without  law  of  improvement. 
Not  only  those  broad  and  striking  effects  which 
belong  to  a  great  range  of  field  and  wood,  or  to  bold 
scenery,  come  within  the  domain  of  landscape  art,  but 
those  lesser  and  orderly  graces  that  may  be  com- 
passed within  stone's  throw  of  a  man's  door.  We  do 
not  measure  an  artist  by  the  width  of  his  canvas. 
The  panoramas  that  take  in  mountains  are  well,  if  the 
life  and  the  mists  of  the  mountains  are  in  them  ;  but 
they  do  not  blind  us  to  the  merit  of  a  cabinet  gem. 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  167 

I  question  very  much  if  that  subtle  apprehension  of 
the  finer  beauties  which  may  be  made  to  appear  about 
a  given  locality  does  not  express  itself  more  pointedly 
and  winningly  in  the  management  of  a  three  or  five 
acre  lawn,  than  upon  such  reach  of  meadow  and 
upland  as  bounds  the  view.  The  watchful  care  for  a 
single  hoary  boulder  that  b'fts  its  seared  and  lichened 
hulk  out  of  a  sweet  level  of  greensward ;  the  auda- 
cious protection  of  some  wild  vine  flinging  its  tendrils 
carelessly  over  a  bit  of  wall,  girt  with  a  savage 
hedge-growth — these  are  indications  of  an  artist  feel- 
ing thai  will  be  riotous  of  its  wealth  upon  a  bare  acre 
of  ground.  Nay,  I  do  not  know  but  I  have  seen 
about  a  laborer's  cottage  of  Devonshire  such  adroit 
adjustment  of  a  few  flowering  plants  upon  a  window- 
shelf,  and  such  tender  and  judicious  care  for  the  little 
matlet  of  turf  around  which  the  gravel  path  swept  to 
his  door,  as  showed  as  keen  an  artistic  sense  of  the 
beauties  of  nature,  and  of  the  way  in  which  they  may 
be  enchained  for  human  gratification,  as  could  be  set 
forth  in  a  park  of  a  thousand  acres.  Of  course,  I  do 
not  mean  to  imply  that  the  man  who  could  fill  a 
peasant's  rood  of  ground  with  charms  of  shrub  or 
flower,  would,  by  virtue  of  so  humble  attainment,  be 
competent  to  produce  the  larger  effects  of  landscape 
gardening.  This  would,  of  course,  involve  a  wider 
knowledge  and  a  different  order  of  experience ;  but 


1 68  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  eye  and  the  taste,  which  are  the  final  judges,  must 
be  much  the  same. 


Farm,  Landscape. 

IN"  further  reference  to  the  possible  connection  of 
landscape  art  with  lands  submitted  every  year  to 
agricultural  and  economic  uses,  I  propose  to  examine 
the  matter  in  detail.  If  all  farm-lands  showed  only 
the  method  of  Alderman  Mechi's,  and  his  system 
of  pumping  dirty  water  by  steam  into  the  middle  of 
any  field — to  be  distributed  thence  by  hose  and 
sprinklers — should  prevail,  we  should  have,  of  course, 
only  flat  surfaces  and  rectangular  fields  to  deal  with. 
But  it  is  safe  to  say  that  it  will  not  prevail  upon  most 
of  our  American  farms  for  many  years  to  come  ;  yet 
it  is  none  the  less  true  that  farm-lands  are  chiefly 
valued  for  the  crops  they  will  carry,  and  for  the 
annual  return  they  will  make.  Are  lands  under  such 
rule  of  management  susceptible  of  an  aesthetic  gov- 
ernance as  well  ?  Will  treatment  with  a  view  to 
profit,  discard  of  necessity  all  consideration  of  taste- 
ful arrangement?  I  think  not,  and  for  reasons 
among  which  I  may  adduce  the  following :  Judicious 
location  of  a  farm-steading,  with  a  view  to  profit 
simply,  will  be  always  near  the  centre  of  the  Ian  da 
farmed  :  this  is  agreeable,  moreover,  to  every  land- 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  169 

scape-ruling  in  the  matter.  The  ricks,  the  chimney, 
the  barn-roofs,  the  dove-cots,  the  door-yard,  with  its 
skirting  array  of  shrubbery  and  shade  trees, — if  only 
order  and  neatness  belong  to  them,  as  good  economy 
would  dictate, — form  a  charming  nucleus  for  any 
stretch  of  fields.  If  there  be  a  stream  whose  power  for 
mechanical  purposes  can  be  made  available,  economy 
dictates  a  location  of  the  farm  buildings  near  to  its 
banks  :  taste  does  the  same.  If  there  be  a  hill  whose 
sheltering  slope  will  offer  a  warm  lee  from  the  north- 
westers, a  due  regard  for  the  comfort  of  laborers 
and  of  beasts,  to  say  nothing  of  early  garden  crops, 
will  dictate  the  occupancy  of  such  sheltered  position 
by  the  group  of  farm  buildings :  taste  will  do  the 
same.  If  such  slope  has  its  rocky  fastness,  incapable 
of  tillage,  and  of  little  value  for  pasture,  economy  will 
suggest  that  it  be  allowed  to  develop  its  own  wanton 
wild  growth  of  forest :  a  just  landscape  taste  will 
suggest  the  same.  If  there  be  a  broad  stretch  of 
meadow  or  of  marsh  land,  subject  to  occasional  over- 
flow, or  by  the  necessity  of  its  position  not  capable 
of  thorough  drainage,  good  farming  will  demand  that 
it  be  kept  in  grass :  good  landscape  gardening  will 
do  the  same. 

Again,  such  rolling  hillsides  as  belong  to  most 
farms  of  the  East,  and  which  by  reason  of  their 
declivity  or  impracticable  nature  are  not  readily  sub- 


1 70  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ject  to  any  course  of  tillage,  will  be  kept  in  pasture, 
and  will  have  their  little  modicum  of  shade.  The 
good  farmer  will  be  desirous  of  establishing  this 
shade  around  the  brooklet  or  the  spring  which  waters 
his  herd,  or  as  a  sheltering  belt  to  the  northward  and 
westward  of  his  lands :  the  landscapist  cannot  surely 
object  to  this.  The  same  shelter  along  the  wayside 
is  agreeable  to  all  aesthetic  laws,  and  does  not  surely 
militate  against  any  of  the  economies  of  farming. 
Indeed,  I  may  remark  here,  as  I  have  already  done  in 
the  progress  of  these  pages,  that  the  value  of  a  shel- 
tering belt  of  trees  is  not  sufficiently  appreciated  as 
yet  by  practical  farmers ;  but  those  who  are  not 
insensible  to  the  quick  spring  growth  under  the  lee 
of  a  northern  garden-fence,  will  one  day  learn  that  an 
evergreen  belt  along  the  northern  line  of  their  farms 
will  show  as  decisive  a  gain  in  their  fields  or  their 
orcharding. 

Again,  in  the  disposition  of  roadways,  there  is  no 
rule  in  landscape  gardening  which  is  not  applicable 
to  a  farm.  Declivities  are  to  be  overcome  by  the 
easiest  practicable  grades,  and  the  curves  which  will 
insure  this  in  most  landscapes  are  those  which  are 
justified  at  a  glance  by  the  economic  eye,  as  well  as 
by  the  eye  of  taste.  A  straight  walk  up  and  down  a 
hill,  is  a  monstrosity  in  park  scenery ;  and  it  is  a 
monstrosity  that  cannot  be  found  in  pasture-lands, 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  171 

where  cattle  beat  their  own  paths.  Even  sheep,  who 
are  good  climbers  in  search  of  food,  whenever  they 
wend  their  way  to  the  fold,  take  the  declivities  by 
zigzag,  and  give  us  a  lesson  in  landscape  art.  An 
ox-team,  in  worming  its  way  through  woodland  and 
down  successive  slopes,  will  describe  curves  which 
would  not  vary  greatly  from  the  engineering  laws  of 
adjustment. 

Once  more,  there  are  certain  special  features  about 
a  farm-steading,  which  may  be  led  to  contribute 
largely  to  landscape  effect  without  violation  of  econo- 
mic law.  These  are  the  ventilators  upon  the  barn 
roof  (which  no  good  barn  should  be  without),  the 
dove-cots,  the  chimney-stacks,  the  ricks  (for  which  a 
nice  thatch  is  an  economy),  the  Dutch  barns,  with 
their  pointed  roofs  and  rustic  base,  the  windmill  (if 
one  is  dependent  upon  pumps),  the  orcharding — all 
which  may  be  made  to  contribute  their  quota  to  an 
effective  landscape,  without  great  violation  of  the 
practical  aims  of  the  farmer. 

I  have  dwelt  upon  this  point,  because  I  love  to 
believe  and  to  teach  that  in  these  respects  true  taste 
and  true  economy  are  accordant,  and  that  the  graces 
of  life,  as  well  as  the  profits,  may  be  kept  in  view  by 
every  ruralist,  whether  farmer  or  amateur.  There 
have  been  certain  fermes  ornkes  both  in  England  and 
France  (may  be  in  this  country  too),  which  I  do  not 


172  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

at  all  reckon  in  my  estimate  of  the  relations  of  good 
farming  to  the  positive  laws  of  taste.  They  are  play- 
farms,  upon  which  it  is  thought  necessary,  (however 
flat  the  surface,)  to  give  to  the  fields  all  manner  of 
irregular  and  curvilinear  shapes.  Such  an  arrange- 
ment is  to  every  judicious  farmer  an  affront.  If  a 
field  takes  irregular  shape  for  sufficient  reason — in  its 
surface,  or  encroachment  of  cliff,  border  territory,  or 
water, — well  and  good ;  the  farmer  can  account  for 
it,  and  accommodate  his  labors  to  it.  But  if  it  be  a 
fantasy  merely,  which  requires  him  to  back  his  team 
and  give  inequality  to  his  "  lands,"  his  common-sense 
revolts  at  it ;  he  sees  an  empty  device  that  interrupts 
his  labor  and  provokes  his  contempt.  The  contempt, 
I  think,  any  man  of  true  taste  will  share  with  him. 

There  is  nothing  horrible  in  a  straight  line  (what- 
ever some  gardeners  may  think)  upon  flat  surfaces. 
I  am  inclined,  indeed,  to  favor  strongly  the  old  Dutch 
instinct  for  long  clipped  avenues,  and  for  the  straight 
belts  of  trees  along  their  water-courses,  in  Holland. 
Why  should  they  puzzle  themselves  with  curves, 
where  no  curves  were  needed  ?  Or  over  the  great 
sheep  plains  of  Central  France,  what  mockery  it 
would  have  been  to  conduct  a  highway  (or  any  other 
way  for  convenience)  by  the  meanderings  which 
belong  so  naturally  to  a  highway  of  Devonshire ! 

Of  course,  I  speak  of  landscape  here  in  a  large 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  173 

way.  A  man  may  very  properly  have  his  door-yard 
and  garden  curvatures  upon  a  plane  surface,  if  they 
be  accounted  for  by  judicious  planting.  I  have  even 
seen  little  hillocks  thrown  up  upon  a  two-acre  patch 
of  adroitly  arranged  pleasure-ground  which  suggested 
agreeably  larger  and  more  graceful  hillocks  near  by 
that  were  not  attainable.  But  a  man  who  should 
undertake  the  building  of  a  considerable  hill  in  a 
level  country  to  relieve  the  monotony,  would  very 
likely  have  his  labor  for  his  pains.  Even  the  great 
tumulus  upon  the  field  of  Waterloo,  upon  which  the 
Belgian  lion  snuffs  the  air,  had  to  me  always  a  most 
absurd  look  of  impropriety.  A  group  of  white  head- 
stones or  a  column  of  marble  would  have  told  more 
gracefully  the  story  of  the  Belgian  dead.  The  stu- 
pendous rock-work  at  Chatsworth,  again,  always  ap- 
peared to  me  a  most  monstrous  waste  of  good  honest 
material  and  honest  labor.  It  is  very  costly  and 
expensive  ;  but  one  of  the  least  of  God's  cliffs  would 
overshadow  it  utterly.  Its  artificiality  cannot  cheat 
one  who  knows  what  rocks  are  in  the  fissures  of  the 
hills ;  and  he  looks  upon  it,  at  best,  with  the  same 
sort  of  foolish  wonderment  with  which  he  looks  upon 
the  wooden  puppets  in  the  Dutch  gardens  of  Broek. 

Thus  much  I  have  written  to  show,  so  far  as  I 
might,  that  the  small  landholder  can  avail  himself 
of  the  laws  of  the  best  landscape  art,  and  in  virtue 


174  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

of  them  can  confirm  and  establish  the  neatness  and 
order  of  his  fields.  There  is,  indeed,  an  artificiality 
about  his  straight  lines  of  crops,  and  his  rectangular 
enclosures  which  does  not  tempt  the  painter ;  but  it 
is  an  artificiality  that  excuses  itself.  There  is  a  fitness 
and  propriety  in  it,  which,  when  contrasted,  as  it 
may  be,  with  the  farmer's  clumps  of  pasture  shade, 
his  wayside  trees,  and  his  leafy  screen  of  the  farm 
buildings,  is  not  without  a  certain  charm. 

Lands  not  Farmed. 

f  I  ^HERE  is,  however,  a  higher  grade  of  landscape 
-*•  beauty  than  can  belong  to  lands  tilled  for  their 
economic  returns,  just  as  there  is  a  higher  grade  of 
man  than  the  agricultural  laborer.  I  propose  to 
indicate  some  of  the  methods  by  which  this  higher 
beauty  may  be  made  to  declare  itself.  First  of  all,  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  every  country  home- 
stead, (the  site  and  architecture  being  already  deter- 
mined on,  and  not,  therefore,  subject  to  present  dis- 
cussion,) there  must  be  neatness  and  order;  no 
tangled  weedy  growth,  no  paths  half  matted  over : 
there  must  be  abundant  evidence  of  that  presiding 
and  watchful  care  without  which  every  homestead, 
whether  within  or  without,  lacks  its  most  considera- 
ble charm.  If  the  beauty  of  the  remoter  landscape 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  175 

lie  in  its  wild  and  unkempt  condition,  the  contrast  of 
extreme  care  at  the  house-side  with  such  savagery, 
will  be  all  the  more  engaging.  And  if  the  beauty  of 
the  outer  landscapes  lie  merely  in  graceful  and  undu- 
lating forms,  care  around  the  doorstep  will  be  requi- 
site to  mark  definitely  the  outflow  of  the  domestic 
wants  and  influences.  The  path  I  tread  ten  times  a 
day  should  be  smooth ;  the  patch  of  croquet  ground 
should  be  reduced  to  absolute  level,  and  any  intrud- 
ing tussock  be  shorn  away  from  reach  of  the  tender- 
footed  gamesters ;  but  the  walk  along  the  further 
hill-side,  where  I  go  only  after  a  long  reach  of  days, 
may  be  only  a  tramped  foot-path  on  the  sward ;  and 
the  stretch  of  turf-land  where  the  Alderneys  are  feed- 
ing may  have  its  eyelets  of  dandelion  and  golden 
buttercups.  But  the  care  and  order  of  which  I  speak 
should  not  be  a  finical  nicety.  Martinetism  is  odious 
everywhere.  It  must  be  a  care  that  shall  conceal 
itself — that  shall  be  marked  by  the  lack  of  every- 
thing disagreeable,  and  not  be  cognizable  by  traces 
of  a  recent  broom  or  roller.  The  scar  of  a  spade-cut 
is  an  unpleasant  reminder  of  the  art  which  is  best 
when  all  traces  of  its  mechanical  devices  are  out  of 
sight.  Of  course,  there  must  be  clippings  and  roll- 
ings, but  they  should  be  so  deftly  done,  and  with  such 
watchfulness,  as  regards  season,  as  to  make  the 
observer  forget  they  had  ever  been  used. 


1 76  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Again,  it  comes  within  the  domain  of  landscape 
art  to  secure  an  agreeable  lookout  from  the  door  and 
the  cherished  windows  of  the  country  homestead, 
whatever  may  be  its  situation.  Accident  or  choice 
of  site  may,  indeed,  secure  this  beyond  question ; 
but,  site  being  established,  where  views  are  limited 
or  obnoxious  objects  fret  the  eye,  it  is  surprising 
what  may  be  done  by  judicious  planting,  and  the 
re-adjustment  of  walls  or  fencing  or  hedging,  to  ofier 
the  pleasant  lookout  we  demand,  though  it  be  bound- 
ed by  a  gunshot.  With  a  reach  of  twenty  rods 
before  one's  eye  and  in  one's  keeping,  there  is  no 
possible  excuse  for  not  giving  it  charming  objects  to 
rest  upon — objects  that  will  not  pall,  but  grow  upon 
the  affections  of  every  true  lover  of  the  country. 

Your  neighbor's  slatternly  barn  troubles  you — 
plant  it  out ;  the  toss  of  the  tops  of  hemlocks  will 
not  be  odious.  A  wavy  bald  wall  irritates  you ;  if 
needed  as  a  barrier,  cover  it  with  wild  vines,  or  flank 
it  with  hedging,  or  so  plant  your  coppices  on  either 
side,  in  and  out,  that  its  line  shall  be  indistinguish- 
able. Is  there  a  low  bit  of  sedgy  ground  that  can  be 
made  nothing  of,  for  the  reason  that  the  adjoining 
proprietor  (who  holds  the  lower  lands)  will  enter 
into  none  of  your  schemes  of  drainage  ?  Plant  it 
with  rhododendrons  and  the  red-berried  alder ;  or  if 
it  be  a  mere  morass,  tumble  into  it  a  few  of  the 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  177 

mossy  stones  from  the  higher  slopes,  and  equip  it 
with  the  wood-ferns  or  clematis.  There  is  no  spot, 
indeed,  so  ungainly  that  it  cannot  be  cheated  of  its 
roughness  by  such  appliances  of  bush  and  vine  and 
plant  as  our  own  woods  will  furnish ;  no  stretch  of 
lawn  so  meagre  that  you  may  not  throw  across  it 
morning  and  afternoon,  such  splintered  bars  of  light 
and  shadow  from  its  encompassing  trees  as  will 
charm  the  looker-on.  In  all  places  of  limited  range, 
and  which,  from  the  necessities  of  position,  are  with- 
out wide-reaching  views,  it  is  doubtful  if  the  eye 
should  be  allowed  to  rest  upon  any  very  determinate 
and  defined  barrier,  as  marking  the  extreme  limit  of 
the  grounds.  An  irregular  belt  of  wood  or  lesser 
growth  of  shrubbery  will  offer  pleasant  concealment 
and  take  away  the  sharpness  of  limitation,  while  some 
picturesque  feature  in  a  neighbor's  grounds  beyond, 
though  it  be  only  a  dove-cot  or  the  ventilator  upon 
the  barn-roof,  or  a  gardener's  cottage,  may,  by  the 
vagueness  and  indeterminate  character  of  the  inter- 
vening barrier,  become  more  surely  yours  by  the  pos- 
session of  the  eye.  It  is  specially  the  province  of  the 
art  we  are  considering,  to  avail  itself  of  all  within 
reach  of  the  view,  whatever  may  lie  between,  and 
make  it  contribute  to  the  oneness  of  the  home  pic- 
ture. True  art  does  not  inquire  who  made  the  pig- 
ments, or  whose  name  they  bear,  but  only,  will  they 
8* 


i/8  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

add  to  the  effect  of  the  work  in  hand  ?  If,  by  cut- 
ting a  few  trees  from  the  copse  upon  the  hill-side,  I 
can  bring  ray  neighbor's  broad-armed  windmill  into 
view,  I  am  taking  a  very  legitimate  means  of  availing 
myself  of  his  expenditure  ;  and  if  the  usual  anchor- 
age-ground for  my  neighbor's  yacht  is  shut  off  only 
by  a  tuft  of  shrubbery  upon  my  lawn,  I  will  cut  it 
away  and  enjoy  his  yacht  (at  anchorage)  as  much  as 
he. 

There  are  many  country  places  which  from  their 
position,  possess  an  outlook  so  broad  and  grand  as 
to  demand  no  consideration  of  special  views,  and 
where  landscape  art  will  find  range  not  only  in  the 
ordering  of  lesser  details,  but  in  partial  concealment 
of  the  beauties  that  confront  the  eye.  The  situations 
to  which  I  allude  are  upon  such  range  of  highland  as 
to  offer — very  likely  from  the  adjoining  public  road — a 
similar  width  of  view ;  but  the  house-view  must  have 
some  special  consecration  of  its  own — some  veil  of 
intervening  foliage  may  be,  through  which  the  ravish- 
ing distance  shall  come  by  glimpses ;  some  embower- 
ment  of  trees,  under  which,  as  in  a  rural  framing,  the 
great  picture  of  the  rivers  and  the.  mountains  shall 
take  new  sightliness  ;  some  tortuous  walk  through  im- 
penetrable shrubberies,  from  the  midst  of  whose  dim- 
ness you  shall  suddenly  burst  out  upon  the  glory  of 
the  far  landscape.  Such  devices  are  needful  not  only 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  179 

to  qualify  the  monotony  of  one  unvarying  scene,  be- 
wildering from  its  very  extent — not  only  to  distinguish 
the  home  view  from  that  of  every  plodder  along  the 
highway,  but  furthermore,  and  chiefly,  to  show  such 
traces  of  art  management  as  shall  quicken  the  zest 
with  which  the  natural  beauties,  as  successively  un- 
folded, are  enjoyed.  A  great  scene  of  mountains,  or 
river,  or  sea,  or  plain,  is  indeed  always  a  great  scene ; 
but  in  the  presence  of  it  a  country  home  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  beautiful  home.  To  this  end,  the  art  that 
deals  with  landscape  effect  must  wed  the  home  to  the 
view ;  must  drape  the  bride,  and  teach  us  the  piquant 
value  of  a  "  coy,  reluctant,  amorous  delay." 

Again,  it  should  be  a  cardinal  rule  in  landscape 
art  (as  in  all  other  art,  I  think)  not  to  multiply  means 
for  producing  a  given  effect.  Where  one  stroke  of 
the  brush  is  enough,  two  evidence  weakness,  and 
three  incompetency.  If  you  can  secure  a  graceful 
sweep  to  your  approach-road  by  one  curve,  two  are 
an  impertinence.  If  a  clump  of  half  a  dozen  trees 
will  effect  the  needed  diversion  of  the  eye  and  pro- 
duce the  desired  shade,  any  additions  are  worse  than 
needless.  If  some  old  lichened  rock  upon  your  lawn 
is  grateful  to  the  view,  do  not  weaken  the  effect  by 
multiplying  rocks.  Simple  effects  are  the  purest  and 
best  effects  as  well  in  landscape  art  as  in  moral 
teaching. 


i8o  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

A  single  outlying  boulder  will  often  illustrate  by 
contrast  the  smoothness  of  a  lawn  better  than  the 
marks  of  a  ponderous  roller.  One  or  two  clumps  of 
alders  along  the  side  of  a  brooklet  will  designate  its 
course  more  effectively  and  pleasantly  than  if  you 
were  to  plant  either  bank  with  willows.  A  single 
spiral  tree  in  a  coppice  will  be  enough  to  bring  out 
all  the  beauty  of  a  hundred  round-topped  ones.  Be- 
cause some  simple  rustic  gate  has  a  charming  effect 
at  one  point  of  your  grounds,  do  not  for  that  reason 
repeat  it  in  another.  Because  the  Virginia  creeper 
makes  a  beautiful  autumn  show,  clambering  into  the 
tops  of  one  of  your  tall  cedars  with  its  five-lobed 
crimson  leaflets,  do  not  therefore  plant  it  at  the  foot 
of  all  your  cedars.  Because  at  some  special  point  the 
red  rooflet  of  a  gateway  lights  up  charmingly  the 
green  of  your  lawn,  and  fastens  the  eye  of  visitors, 
do  not  for  that  reason  make  all  your  gateways  with 
red  rooflets.  If  some  far-away  spire  of  a  country 
church  conies  through  some  forest  vista  to  your  eye, 
do  not  perplex  yourself  by  cutting  forest  pathways  to 
other  spires. 

Again,  (and  I  think  I  have  trenched  upon  this  topic 
previously  in  the  course  of  these  pages,)  every  pos- 
sessor and  improver  of  a  country  estate,  however 
small  or  however  large,  should  work  upon  clearly 
defined  plans,  decided  upon  from  the  beginning.  I 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  181 

do  not  mean  to  say  that  diagrams  and  surveyor's 
maps  may  be  positively  necessary,  provided  the 
director  of  the  improvements  has  a  clear  understand- 
ing of  the  boundaries  and  surface,  and  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  effects  he  wishes  to  accomplish.  I 
only  insist  that  promiscuous  planting,  and  the  laying 
down  of  paths,  little  by  little,  or  year  by  year,  with- 
out reference,  clear  and  constant,  to  the  final  results, 
and  to  a  plan  that  shall  embrace  the  whole  property, 
will  involve  great  waste  of  labor,  and  the  inevitable 
undoing  in  the  future  of  what  may  be  done  to-day. 
Of  course,  where  such  work  is  intrusted  to  a  corps 
of  gardeners  and  laborers,  complete  diagrams  will  be 
necessary ;  and  it  is  only  where  the  constant  personal 
supervision  of  the  director,  whether  proprietor  or 
other,  can  be  counted  on,  that  such  detailed  exhibit 
of  the  work  in  hand  can  be  dispensed  with.  No 
general  plan,  such  as  I  refer  to,  can  be  safely  matured 
without,  first,  full  and  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
ground  and  its  environs,  and,  second,  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  intentions  and  tastes  of  the  proprietor 
under  whose  occupancy  the  plan  is  to  reach  fulfil- 
ment. 

I  do  not  at  all  mean  to  say  that  the  laws  of  taste 
in  respect  to  landscape  art  are  to  meet  revision 
at  the  will  of  any  chance  proprietor,  or  that  the  art 
itself  has  not  its  elemental  principles  which  no  occu- 


1 82  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

pant  of  a  country  estate  can  safely  disturb.  But  one 
landholder  has  a  penchant  for  agriculture,  and  wishes 
to  make  all  the  available  acres  contribute  to  his  taste 
for  cattle  or  crops ;  another  has  a  horticultural  mania, 
and  wishes  the  outlay  to  take  such  a  shape  as  shall 
most  contribute  to  his  special  pursuit ;  still  another 
foresees  a  demand  for  his  acres  as  villa  sites,  and 
desires  such  arrangement  as  shall  best  contribute  to 
their  conversion  into  some  half-dozen  or  more  of 
attractive  homesteads ;  and  yet  another  wishes  such 
improvement  as  shall  best  develop  the  natural  features 
of  the  place,  and  insure  the  most  economic  treatment 
of  the  same,  without  any  view  to  future  sale,  or  to 
whims,  whether  horticultural  or  agricultural. 

Now  it  is  strictly  within  the  province  of  land- 
scape art  to  meet  either  or  all  of  these  views  without 
violation  of  its  elemental  principles.  I  have  already 
intimated  how  far  the  offices  of  husbandman  and  his 
methods  of  culture  may  be  subordinated  to  good 
landscape  effect:  of  horticulture  this  is  even  more 
true.  In  laying  out  with  a  view  to  ultimate  division 
of  country  property  for  villa  sites,  there  are  certain 
difficulties  in  the  way.  In  a  general  sense,  it  is  true 
that  the  more  you  make  beautiful  a  country  property, 
the  more  you  make  it  inviting  for  country  residences. 
But  landscape  design  with  a  view  to  a  single  owner- 
ship and  a  single  home  establishment  must  needs  be 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  183 

different  from  one  -which  looks  to  the  dispersion  of 
the  property  into  a  dozen  lesser  homes.  Absolute  unity 
of  plan  will,  in  such  a  case,  be  naturally  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. There  must  be  some  measure  of  sacrifice  to  the 
contingencies  reckoned  upon ;  no  sacrifice  of  charm, 
indeed,  when  the  purpose  is  understood  :  six  adjoin- 
ing sites,  well  ordered,  and  planted  with  a  view  to 
future  occupancy,  may  embrace  a  thousand  beauties, 
but  will  not,  of  course,  preserve  that  unity  of  effect 
which  would  belong  to  a  single  permanent  property. 

On  the  score  of  taste,  a  competent  landscape-gar- 
dener has  no  need  to  compare  notes  with  the  pro- 
prietor of  country  property ;  but  he  should  be  put  in 
full  possession  of  all  the  economies  of  his  plan.  Does 
he  wish  a  reservation  for  agricultural  purposes,  foi 
vineyard,  for  orcharding,  more  than  will  be  essential 
to  his  household  supply  ?  Does  he  count  upon  subse- 
quent division  of  the  property  for  building  purposes  ? 
These  questions  should  meet  full  discussion  and 
the  outlay  be  adjusted  thereby.  But  it  is  unfortu- 
nately true  that  half  the  owners  of  country  estates 
entertain  no  considerations  of  this  kind,  and,  entering 
upon  their  improvements  with  a  vague  improvidence, 
find  after  a  lapse  of  years,  the  bulk  of  them  useless 
and  inconvertible.  City  improvements  may  be  under- 
taken without  long  look  into  the  future  ;  errors  may 
be  amended  as  fast  as  brick  and  mortar  can  be  piled 


1 84  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

together ;  but  great  trees  do  not  grow  in  a  night,  or 
in  a  year.  In  America,  we  must  count  upon  divisions 
and  subdivisions  of  property.  Great  ancestral  estates 
will  nowhere  be  long  ancestral.  Our  republican  mill 
grinds  them  sharply.  Hence  we  lack,  and  must 
always  lack  that  artistic  dealing  with  country  estates 
which  can  count  upon  oneness  of  proprietorship  for  an 
indefinite  period  of  years.  Better  to  admit  this  in 
the  beginning,  and  let  our  landscape  art  take  its  form 
accordingly,  than  to  weary  itself  with  imitation  of 
what  is  feudally  and  mercilessly  old.  Nothing  can 
cheat  us,  indeed,  of  the  beauty  of  God's  trees  and 
flowers  and  wood-paths.  Nature  is  as  much  to  the 
occupant  of  a  fifty-acre  holding,  as  to  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire,  or  the  Marquis  of  Buccleugh.  But  half 
a  thousand  acres  of  sylvan  glade  and  of  velvety  turf 
cannot  be  maintained  with  us  from  generation  to 
generation  as  the  feeding  ground  for  fallow  deer ;  it 
may,  however,  have  such  keeping  and  embellishment 
as  shall  fit  it  for  a  score  of  fair  homes.  Better  the 
homes  with  cheerfulness  in  them  than  the  deer-park 
with  want  shivering  beyond  the  walls. 


City  and  Town  Parks. 

office  of  a  park  is  wholly  different  from  that 
of  a  village  green ;  the  same  demands  do  not 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  185 

suggest  the  two.  The  city  square  or  plaza  is  the  city 
representative  of  the  village  common :  this  latter 
being  only  a  rural  plaza  whereon  the  green-sward  is 
a  more  economic  and  appropriate  pavement  than 
stones ;  the  incessant  traffic  and  wear  of  a  metropolis 
do  not  blot  the  grass. 

The  park  represents  not  only  a  demand  for  space 
and  trees,  but  a  revival  and  reassertion  of  country 
instincts  which  city  associations  are  only  too  apt  to 
infold  and  entomb ;  but,  however  drearily  infolded, 
there  comes  some  day  to  all  denizens  of  cities  a  resur- 
rection of  those  earlier  rural  instincts  which  crave 
growth  and  food — an  outburst,  through  all  the  stony 
interstices  of  pavement,  of  the  love  of  trees  and 
green  things.  Not  until  a  city  has  become  so  large 
as  to  deny  to  very  many  living  in  its  interior  intimate 
association  and  familiarity  with  the  encompassing 
belt  of  country  will  this  new  need  declare  itself 
strongly.  Nay,  in  a  city,  whose  elevated  situation, 
gives  outlook  from  its  open  spaces  upon  great  fields 
of  greenness  around  it,  such  need  of  park  land  will 
not  for  a  long  period  of  years  be  felt. 

Eventually,  not  only  will  the  instinctive  rural 
longings  of  the  masses  stimulate  to  this  struggle  to 
recover  the  lost  birthright  of  trees  and  turf,  but  the 
very  vanities  of  city  growth  will  demand  a  larger 
airing  than  populous  streets  can  supply ;  and  the  man 


1 86  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

who  loves  a  sleek  team,  and  indulges  in  its  display 
will  vie  with  the  workman  (who  wants  romping 
place  for  his  children)  in  clamor  for  a  public  park. 
If  our  vanities  and  our  healthful  tastes  were  always 
as  closely  yoked,  we  should  have  a  better  growth 
from  the  yoking.  However,  it  may  come  about — 
whether  from  the  natural  impulses  of  a  crowded 
population  to  ally  themselves  once  again  with  the 
bounteous  amplitude  of  the  fields,  or  whether  from 
the  artificial  desire  to  give  room  and  exhibition  to 
equipages — it  is  undeniable  that  all  towns  of  ambi- 
tious pretensions  and  of  assured  and  rapid  growth  do, 
after  a  certain  period  of  street  packing,  bestir  them- 
selves in  a  feverish  way  to  secure  some  easy  lounging- 
place  under  the  trees.  Unfortunately  the  stir  is,  for 
the  most  part,  at  so  late  a  day,  that  all  available  or 
desirable  localities  have  been  secured  for  other  pur- 
poses. But,  whatever  the  alternative  of  cost,  I  can- 
not learn  that  such  an  enterprise,  when  thoroughly 
matured  and  in  complete  operation,  has  ever  proved  a 
disappointment.  I  have  never  heard  of  a  disposition 
on  the  part  of  voters  to  rescind  any  appropriation  for 
such  a  purpose,  and  to  convert  a  public  garden  or 
park  to  economic  uses.  I  never  heard  of  an  instance 
where  pride  did  not  speedily  attach  to  the  public 
grounds,  if  accessible  and  well  cared  for,  and  where 
the  people  of  such  a  town  did  not  make  a  boast  and 
a  glory  of  the  endowment. 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  187 

Even  in  countries  where  such  far-sighted  improve- 
ments are  effected  by  the  force  majeure  of  an  Imperial 
edict,  popular  resentments  or  revolutions  never  find 
their  leverage  in  such  tokens  of  extravagance.  There 
are  not  a  thousand  men  in  Paris,  rich  or  poor,  who 
would  make  quarrel  with  Louis  Napoleon  for  the 
millions  lavished  upon  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  or  the 
appointments  of  the  Park  Monceau.  But  there  were 
tens  of  thousands  of  malcontents,  in  Louis  Philippe's 
time,  with  the  fortification  bill,  and  the  inclosure  for 
private  uses,  of  a  terrace  of  the  garden  of  the  Tuil- 
leries.  The  people  may  not,  indeed,  have  a  very  clear 
sense  of  their  wants  in  the  matter  of  a  public  park, 
but  once  supply  them  attractively  and  accessibly,  and 
they  feel  the  appositeness  of  the  supply,  and  cling  to 
it  with  as  much  obstinacy  as  pride. 

We  Americans  have  a  way  of  shrinking  from  pro- 
spective taxation,  whatever  the  purpose  of  it  may  be ; 
but  when  once  fairly  saddled  with  it,  whether  for  the 
benefit  of  corporations  or  monopolies  or  public  im- 
provements, we  bear  it  with  a  most  admirable  un- 
flinchingness.  The  costs  of  public  gardens  or  parks, 
if  well  ordered,  and  not  made  the  vehicle  of  private 
peculation,  are  not  such  as  would  create  a  remon- 
strance from  the  people  of  any  American  city ;  and 
the  difficulty  in  the  way  of  establishment  would 
He  not  so  much  in  a  general  spirit  of  hostility  to 


1 88  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

increased  taxation,  (though  that  spirit,  as  I  have 
hinted,  has  a  wonderful  catlike  watchfulness,)  as  in 
the  private  jealousies  that  must  be  harmonized  before 
any  large  real  estate  improvement  is  practicable.  I 
defy  any  benevolent  gentleman,  in  a  town  of  thirty 
thousand  active,  and  newspaper-reading  inhabitants, 
to  propose  a  scheme  for  a  public  garden  or  park,  upon 
a  designated  spot  of  ground,  without  starting  an 
angry  buzz  of  opposition  from  other  equally  benevo- 
lent gentlemen,  who  see  in  it  only  a  device  to  bring 
about  the  rapid  appreciation  of  property  which  is  not 
their  own.  The  quick-sightedness  with  which  the 
philanthropists  of  one  side  of  a  smallish  city  will  detect 
flaws  in  the  philanthropy  of  men  living  on  the  other 
side  of  a  smallish  city,  is  indeed  something  marvellous. 
Thus  it  happens  that  some  brave  and  honest  project 
for  park  or  water  supply,  or  sewerage,  will  welter  for 
years  in  some  slough  of  opposing  doubts,  all  whose 
obstructing  slime  is  made  up  of  such  miserable,  local 
jealousies  as  I  have  hinted  at.  The  same  traces  of 
satanic  influence  belong,  I  think,  to  the  philosophers 
who  make  up  our  national  Congress,  so  that  our 
best  bits  of  legislation  seem  to  come  upon  us  by  ac- 
cident, when  our  wisest  legislators  are  asleep,  or  tired, 
or — worse. 

In  the  days  of  our  present  civilization  and  educa- 
tion, it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  the  majority  of 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  189 

intelligent  voters  in  any  considerable  town  would 
declare  for  the  utility  of  a  public  park  or  garden ; 
but  whether  their  wishes  can  be  made  effective  for 
the  establishment  of  such  a  result  is  another  ques- 
tion, and  one  which  must  drift  into  the  arena  of  town 
politics — where  I  leave  it ;  proposing  only  to  discuss 
here  some  of  the  aims  of  such  an  endowment,  some 
of  the  possibilities  in  that  direction,  the  conditions 
of  its  success,  and  permanent  usefulness  to  the 
masses. 

Place  for  Parks. 

"TTMRST  of  all,  a  public  park  should  be  as  near  as 
-*•  possible  to  the  town  ;  best  of  all,  perhaps,  if  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  town,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  some 
of  the  old  walled  towns  of  Europe,  girting  it  with  a 
circle  of  green.  I  hardly  think  any  public  gardens 
of  the  world  contribute  more  to  the  health  and  enjoy- 
ment of  the  adjacent  population  than  those  of  Frank- 
fort-on-the-Main,  which  lie  all  about  their  homes,  and 
which  are  planted  upon  the  line  of  the  old  fortifica- 
tions. Even  the  ill-kept  walks  upon  the  ancient  walls 
of  Chester  and  York  (in  England),  by  their  nearness 
to  the  homes  of  the  people,  and  by  the  delightful  out- 
look they  offer,  are  among  the  most  cherished  prome- 
nades I  know.  But  with  us,  who  have  no  girting 


i go  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

walls,  and  rarely  vacant  spaces  about  our  commercial 
centres,  these  pleasant  breathing-places  must  be 
pushed  into  the  outskirts  of  our  towns.  I  say — rarely 
vacant  spaces ;  but  while  I  write,  there  occur  to  me 
instances  of  beautiful  opportunities  neglected,  one  of 
which,  at  least,  I  will  record.  The  thriving  little  city 
of  Norwich,  in  eastern  Connecticut,  is  situated  at  the 
confluence  of  two  rivers,  which  form  the  Thames. 
Along  either  shore  of  the  Yantic  and  the  Shetucket, 
the  houses  of  the  town  are  picturesquely  strewed  in 
patches  of  white  and  gray ;  but  between  the  rivers 
and  the  lines  of  houses,  the  land  rises  into  a  great 
promontory  of  hill — toward  the  east,  forming  a  Sal- 
vator-Rosa  cliff,  shaggy  with  brush- wood  and  cedars — 
toward  the  south  and  west,  a  steep  declivity  on  which 
the  swiftly  slanting  sward-land  is  spotted  with  out- 
cropping ledges  ;  to  the  north  a  gradual  slope  falls 
easily  away  to  the  great  plains,  where  lie  the  bulk  of 
the  suburban  residences.  Within  twenty  or  thirty 
years  the  whole  upper  surface  of  this  central  hillock 
might  have  been  secured  for  the  merest  bagatelle,  and 
would  have  made  one  of  the  proudest  public  prome- 
nades imaginable,  accessible  to  all  walkers  from  the 
south  and  east,  and  to  all  equipages  from  the  north, 
and  offering  level  plateau  for  drives  that  would  have 
commanded  the  most  enchanting  of  views  ;  but  the 
occasion  has  gone  by;  inferior  houses  hold  their 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  191 

uneasy  footing  on  the  hill-side,  and  a  gaunt-jail, 
which  is  the  very  apotheosis  of  ugliness,  crowns  this 
picturesque  height. 

Another  little  city,  that  of  Hartford,  in  the  neigh- 
bor State  of  Connecticut,  has  made  the  most  of  its 
opportunities  by  converting  into  a  charming  public 
garden  a  weary  waste  of  ground  that  lay  between  its 
railway  station  and  the  heart  of  the  city.  The  op- 
portunity was  not  large,  to  be  sure,  but  it  was  one 
that  needed  a  keen  eye  for  its  development,  and  the 
result  has  shown  that  commercial  thrift  may  not 
unfrequently  take  its  lesson  with  profit  from  the  sug- 
gestions of  a  cultivated  taste.  There  is  many  a 
growing  town  having  somewhere  within  its  borders 
such  unsuspected  aptitude  and  capability,  that  only 
needs  an  eye  to  discern  it,  and  the  requisite  enterprise 
to  develop  in  the  very  heart  of  the  population  a 
garden  and  a  public  promenade  that  would  become  a 
joy  forever.  It  must  be  remembered,  furthermore, 
that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  make  such  transmutation 
of  waste  and  unsightly  places  into  an  attractive  area 
of  garden-land,  without  increasing  enormously  the 
taxable  value  of  all  surrounding  property.  I  recall 
now,  in  one  of  our  most  thriving  seaside  cities,  a 
great  slough  of  oozy  tide-mud  of  many  acres  in 
extent,  shut  off  from  the  harbor  front  by  a  low  rail- 
way embankment,  showing  here  and  there  a  riotous 


192  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

overgrowth  of  wild  sedges,  foul  with  heaps  of 
garbage,  uninviting  in  every  possible  way,  and  yet 
lying  within  stone's  throw  of  the  centre  of  the  city. 
Sandy  highlands,  almost  totally  unimproved,  flank  it 
immediately  upon  the  west — disposed  there,  as  it 
would  seem,  for  the  very  purpose  of  furnishing  easy 
material  for  the  filling  in  of  the  flat  below.  A  few 
thousands  would  accomplish  this,  and  judicious  plant- 
ing and  outlay  would  in  three  years'  time  establish  a 
charming  promenade  or  garden  in  the  centre  of  the 
sea-front  of  the  town,  and  there  is  not  one  of  the 
adjoining  pieces  of  property  but  would  be  doubled  in 
value  by  the  operation.  The  neglect  of  such  oppor- 
tunities, whether  due  to  miserable  local  jealousies,  or, 
as  often  happens,  to  the  short-sightedness  and  indif- 
ference of  municipal  authorities,  is  surely  not  compli- 
mentary to  our  civilization. 

The  term  "  near  to  town,"  in  these  times  of  horse 
railways,  has  rather  a  relative  than  positive  signifi- 
cance. Three  miles,  by  a  fair,  broad  avenue,  upon 
which  well-equipped  cars  are  making  their  rounds 
every  half  hour  of  the  day,  is  not  half  so  large  a 
distance  for  either  the  laboring  or  the  business  man 
to  compute,  as  a  mile  and  a  half  of  ill-kept,  old- 
fashioned  turnpike  road. 

The  truth  is,  that  citizens  of  sleepy  towns  in  the 
interior  are  losing  their  reckoning  about  distances ; 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  193 

they  have  not  been  educated  to  metropolitan  esti* 
mates.  The  Wall  Street  man  sneers  at  two  miles  of 
walk  before  business  ;  your  small  broker  of  a  country 
city,  on  the  other  hand,  advertises  for  a  tenement 
"  within  half  a  mile  of  the  post-office."  I  never  see 
such  an  advertisement  but  I  think  some  Rip  Van 
Winkle  has  just  waked,  and  that  his  friends  should 
give  him  a  combing  and  nursing. 

Ready  accessibility  is  the  true  measure  of  distance 
in  our  day,  and  a  town  park  must  be  easily  accessible 
to  all  classes.  It  must  be  a  matter  in  which  the 
humblest  citizens  can  take  pride  and  comfort.  Those 
cities  which  have  considerable  open  spaces  in  the 
shape  of"  common,"  "  green,"  or  "  squares,"  scattered 
here  and  there,  are  the  last  to  wake  to  any  need  of  a 
park  which  shall  give  drives,  and  such  sources  of 
diversion  as  belong  legitimately  to  a  public  park. 
The  central  commons  and  greens  may  do  very  well 
in  the  early  stages  of  a  city's  growth,  but  there  comes 
a  time  when  the  municipal  edicts  forbid  ball-playing 
and  cricket,  at  which  date  there  is  reason  to  plan 
some  larger  forage  ground  for  our  youthful  sports. 

And  it  is  precisely  this  forage  ground  for  the 
developing  muscle  of  Young  America  that  the  town 
park  should  furnish.  Cricket  ground,  base-ball 
ground,  and  parade  ground  for  the  ambitious  troops 

of  the  municipality  should  be  as  sedulously  cared  for 
9 


194  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

as  a  good  roadway  for  carriages.  A  skating  pond 
would  belong  fitly  to  the  requirements,  and,  if  no 
river  or  harbor  offered  better  space,  an  opportunity 
for  boating  would  be  wisely  included.  It  is  not 
supposed  that  a  feasible  spot  of  ground  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  most  cities  can  command  and  make  good 
these  requirements.  But  much  more  can  be  done 
than  is  imagined  if  the  best  available  talent  is  secured 
for  the  work  in  hand.  Even  in  our  fast  days,  it  is 
quite  wonderful  to  find  what  a  multitude  of  people 
go  to  sleep  upon  advantages  which,  judiciously 
ordered,  would  make  them  rich.  There  is  many  a 
river  valley,  in  the  close  neighborhood  of  cities, 
covered  now  with  rank  and  unprofitable  grasses,  over 
which,  at  small  cost,  might  be  given  flow  to  a  lake 
that  would  wash  on  either  shore  the  banks  of  high- 
lands, admirably  fitted  for  drives,  and  already  clothed 
with  the  forest  growth  of  half  a  century. 

'Equipment  of  Public   Gardens. 

AS  I  have  already  said,  it  is  requisite  that  a  town 
park  should  offer  a  charming  drive ;  so  far 
charming  that  every  townsman  will  feel  it  incum- 
bent on  him  to  give  each  stranger  guest  a  full  view 
of  its  attractions.  These  latter  must  lie,  either  in 
commanding  views  of  the  town  itself  and  its  environs, 


LAYING    OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  195 

or  in  landscape  effects  which  have  been  wrought  out 
by  skill  and  attention  in  the  park  itself.  Neither 
Hyde  Park  nor  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  offer  any  com- 
manding range  of  view ;  the  delights  all  lie  in  the 
neatly  kept  roadway,  the  flanking  lakes  and  parterres, 
the  bright,  green  slopes  of  shaven  turf;  at  Richmond 
Hill  or  on  the  Pincian  at  Rome,  on  the  other  hand, 
you  forget  the  roadway,  you  forget  the  bits  of  pretty 
turflet,  you  ignore  the  copses,  you  are  careless  of  the 
odor  of  flowers,  for  your  eye,  carrying  all  your  per- 
ceptive faculties  in  its  reach,  leaps  to  the  fair  vision 
of  flood  and  field  and  trees,  which  sweep  away,  in 
sun  and  in  shadow,  to  the  horizon. 

Undoubtedly  if  the  surface  of  adjoining  country 
will  permit,  it  will  be  far  less  expensive  to  establish 
a  park  whose  charm  shall  lie  in  exterior  views  than 
one  whose  attractions  shall  consist  in  what  the  pro- 
fessional men  call  (by  use  of  an  abominable  word)  its 
gardenesque  features.  Yet,  with  such  economic  pur- 
pose, it  will  never  do  to  go  too  far  in  the  country. 
It  must  never  be  forgotten  with  us  that  the  men  of 
equipages  are  by  no  means  the  only  class  who  are  to 
participate  in  our  aesthetical  progress ;  the  town  park, 
to  have  its  best  uses,  must  not  only  be  within  easy 
reach  by  walk  or  by  the  street  tramway,  but  it  must 
have,  too,  its  spaces  of  level  ground  to  allure  the 
cricket  or  the  base-ball  players.  Areas  should  be 


196  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ample  enough  to  prevent  the  possible  interference  of 
these  sports,  (which  every  sensible  township  would 
do  well  to  encourage,)  with  the  enjoyment  of  a  quiet 
drive. 

"While  there  is  no  need  for  making  the  wood  of  a 
public  park  a  complete  arboretum,  I  think  that 
special  care  should  be  taken  to  give  specimens  of  all 
the  best  known  timber  and  shade  trees,  and  that 
these  should  be  definitely  marked  with  their  botanical 
as  well  as  popular  names,  so  that  strollers  might  come 
to  a  pleasant  lesson  in  their  seasons  of  idleness.  The 
particular  habits  of  individual  specimens  and  of  forest 
growths  might,  I  think,  be  safely  and  profitably 
noted  as  lending  additional  interest  to  them,  and 
creating  a  sort  of  fellowship  with  the  trees.  Every 
forester  knows  that  oaks  and  maples  of  the  same 
species  have  yet  idiosyncrasies  of  their  own — one 
blooming  a  full  fortnight  before  its  neighbor,  and 
another  taking  a  tawny  hue,  while  its  companion  is 
still  in  full  array  of  green.  In  the  garden  of  the 
Tuilleries  there  is  a  chestnut  which  enjoys  the  tradi- 
tional repute  of  showing  leaflets  upon  the  twentieth  of 
March  (hence  called  Vingt  de  Mars),  and  the  vener- 
able old  tree,  well  known  to  every  frequenter  of  the 
garden,  has  come  to  have  a  character  of  sanctity  by 
reason  of  this  early  welcome  of  the  spring.  In  a  field 
within  sight  of  my  own  door,  there  is  a  sugar-maple 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  197 

which,  by  some  fault  in  the  planting,  or  some  inherent 
defect  in  the  tree,  has  made  little  or  no  growth  these 
last  six  years,  and  which  every  August — a  full  month 
before  the  earliest  of  its  companions — takes  on  a 
hectic  flush  of  color,  which  it  carries,  with  the  buoy- 
ancy of  a  consumptive,  all  through  the  autumn.  This 
accident  of  coloring  gives  an  individuality  and  in- 
terest to  the  tree  which  distinguishes  it  from  all  its 
stalwart  and  thrifty  fellows. 

I  do  not  think  a  town  park  can  ever  safely  be 
mated  with  a  trotting  course  ;  either  the  trotting  or 
the  park  will  go  under.  It  is  not  intended  to  speak 
against  trottiug-courses,  or  greased  pigs,  or  the  climb- 
ing of  greased  poles  ;  but  the  arena  for  these  sports 
is  not  usually  such  a  one  as  to  entice  a  quiet  family 
man  to  a  park  drive.  Quiet  family  men  are  not,  to 
be  sure,  very  plentiful,  and  are  not  much  considered 
nowadays ;  they  still  subsist,  however,  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  give  a  stale  flavor  of  respectability  to  many 
of  our  growing  provincial  towns,  and  to  shape,  to  a 
certain  degree,  the  municipal  improvments.  The  love 
for  fast  trotters  and  for  trotting  matches  is  so  decided 
an  American  taste  that  a  good  trotting-course  will 
become  a  cherished  institution  in  every  town  of  a 
dozen  or  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants.  Indeed,  I 
think  its  establishment  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
necessary  safety-valve,  through  which  unusual  speed 


198  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

and  the  accompanying  howls  may  be  worked  off 
safely  without  frightening  staid  old  gentlemen  whc 
keep  to  the  quiet  high-roads.  A  good  flat,  a  good 
bottom,  and  a  good  amphitheatre  of  seats,  are  about 
all  the  requisites  of  an  approved  trotting-course,  and 
anything  picturesque  in  the  way  of  trees  or  decora- 
tive features  is  an  impertinence.  There  is  no  fear, 
therefore,  that  the  trotting  taste  will  ever  have  large 
interference  with  the  demand  for  public  parks. 

It  is  a  common  mistake,  I  think,  to  imagine  that 
anything  like  a  finical  nicety  in  the  arrangement  of 
turf  or  walks  or  parterres  is  essential  to  the  perma- 
nent and  larger  utilities  of  a  town  park.  This,  in- 
deed, involves  great  cost,  and  diverts  from  lai'ger  and 
more  important  ends.  A  flock  or  two  of  South- 
Downs,  confined  by  movable  hurdles,  and  under 
charge  of  some  custodian,  who  might  have  his  rural 
cottage  at  the  gate  of  entrance,  would  keep  turf  in 
very  presentable  condition.  After  this,  good  drain- 
age, hard  gravelled  roads — subject  to  monthly  rolling 
— and  judiciously  disposed  clumps  of  shade,  are  the 
main  things ;  following  upon  which,  as  the  town  grows 
in  taste  or  ability,  the  parterres  of  flowers  and  the 
arboretum  and  conservatory  might  be  superadded. 

But  quite  above  and  beyond  our  present  question 
of  treatment  is  the  larger  one  of  gaming,  in  due  time, 
possession  of  available  space.  No  town  that  counts 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  199 

upon  its  thirty  or  forty  thousand  inhabitants  within 
the  next  score  of  years  should  neglect  it.  There  can 
be  no  loss  in  its  becoming  a  large  landholder  within 
its  own  territory.  If  the  charming  but  costly  dis- 
guisements  of  a  park  cannot  be  ventured  upon  at 
once,  the  land  may  at  least  be  turned  over  into  a 
town  farm,  where  the  town's  poor  may  be  set  to  the 
work  of  combing  down  its  roughness  or  preparing  it 
by  slow  degrees,  earning  their  own  support,  mean- 
time, for  the  richer  ends  in  view.  The  scheme  is  by 
no  means  chimerical ;  scores  of  workers,  through  the 
less  active  months  of  the  year,  and  who  are  dependent 
on  the  town  for  partial  support,  might  thus  be  put  to 
remunerative  labor  upon  the  town  property.  A 
judicious  design  of  a  park  as  a  finality  upon  the  land 
in  question  might  underlie,  in  a  measure,  and  qualify 
the  regular  farm  labors.  A  well-appointed  drive 
might  gradually  uncoil  itself  over  the  hills  and 
through  the  cultivated  flats,  the  wood  crop  out  upon 
the  cliffs,  and  the  flowers  unfold  in  their  sequestered 
nook's.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  park  or  garden,  grow- 
ing up  in  this  way  by  degrees  under  the  tutelage  of 
the  town,  not  fairly  throwing  off  its  economic  and 
food-providing  aspect  until  the  plantations  have  rip- 
ened into  fulness,  would  have  a  double  charm.  I 
commend  the  suggestions  to  such  boroughs  as  keep 
their  town's  poor  festering  in  some  ill-ventilated  alma- 


200  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

house,  with  limited  grounds,  in  the  foulest  suburb  of 
the  place. 


Burying  Grounds. 

EVERY  considerable  town  requires,  or  will 
require  at  no  late  day,  not  only  fields  for  the 
disport  of  its  living  swarms,  but  other  fields  (requir- 
ing exceptional  care  of  their  own)  for  the  interment 
of  its  throng  of  dead.  Indeed,  the  living  can  steal 
some  chance  moments  of  rural  enjoyment,  by  burst- 
ing into  fields  and  gardens  of  their  neighbors,  or  by 
plunging  into  untamed  wilds ;  but  a  man  cannot  steal 
a  grave :  there  is  no  larceny  possible  to  us  of  some 
charming  spot  upon  a  neighbor's  hill-side  where  our 
bones  may  rest. 

I  cannot  quite  share  in  what  seems  to  be  the 
popular  disposition  nowadays — to  make  a  favorite,  if 
not  fashionable  drive  of  the  cemetery.  That  it  should 
be  beautiful,  that  it  should  carry  report  of  the  delight- 
some things  of  every  season  in  its  flowers,  its  fading 
wealth  of  leaves,  its  evergreens,  I  can  well  under- 
stand. But  that  it  should  be  made  voyant,  inviting 
chance-comers,  offering  views  of  sea  or  environs, 
cheating  one  into  the  belief  that  he  is  in  a  well-kept 
garden,  and  not  among  graves,  lured  thither  by  views 
or  prettinesses  of  landscape  design  and  not  by  the 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  201 

memories  or  the  sentiment  of  the  place — this  is  awk- 
ward. Hence,  it  seems  to  me  that  a  sheltered  hill- 
side, a  glen,  a  protected  valley,  are  far  more  appro- 
priate than  a  plain,  scalding  in  the  sun,  or  heights 
which  invite  by  a  great  range  of  exterior  views. 
Tastes  will  differ  widely  in  this  regard ;  but  it 
certainly  does  appear  as  if  the  whirl  of  lively  and 
clattering  equipages  day  after  day  along  the  edges  of 
the  graves  of  quiet  men  would  make  a  terribly  per- 
turbed sleep  for  them ;  and  if  real  grief  ever  stalk 
thither  to  pay  a  last  melancholy  tribute,  it  must 
needs  make  a  sad  public  exhibition  of  itself,  or  prac- 
tise a  galling  reticence. 

In  dealing  with  the  question  of  a  public  cemetery, 
adequate  to  the  needs  of  a  growing  population — as  in 
the  question  of  a  public  park, — our  larger  towns  show 
a  provoking  delay,  blinding  themselves  year  after 
year  to  the  necessities  of  the  case,  and  deferring 
positive  action,  until  the  needed  investment  assumes 
gigantic  proportions.  There  are  scores  of  towns 
whose  cemeteries  are  absolutely  brimming  with  the 
dead,  who  yet  take  no  decisive  measures  for  an 
increase  of  the  privilege  we  all  sigh  for  at  last — of  a 
quiet  sleep  under  trees. 

Among  the  requisites  for  a  country  cemetery  are  to 
be  named,  I  think,  first,  a  distance  not  exceeding  forty 
minutes  drive  from  town ;  next,  a  feasible  soil,  and  one 
9* 


202  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

not  underlaid  with  ledges.  An  absolutely  dry  soil  is 
also  desirable,  and  a  sheltered  position :  for  in  the 
last  tender  offices  of  respect  to  the  dead,  we  are 
exposed  to  all  seasons,  and  a  harsh  sweep  of  northerly 
winds  adds  dismally  to  the  chill  of  a  wintry  burial 
I  think  we  love  to  catch,  too,  in  such  localities,  the 
first  warm  beat  of  the  spring  sunshine,  and  that  we 
welcome  the  early  violets  on  graves  we  know,  as  we 
welcome  them  nowhere  else. 

If  with  all  these  requirements  can  be  associated 
picturesque  variety  of  surface,  secluded  glens  and 
pools,  where,  as  in  Mount  Auburn,  water  flowers 
show  their  white  regalia,  it  would  be  well ;  but  there 
should  be  no  sacrifice  of  the  quiet  seclusion  which 
should  belong  to  such  a  spot  to  compass  the  garish 
charms  of  over-nice  and  pretentious  gardening. 

Park  gardening  and  decoration  is  one  thing ;  that 
of  cemeteries  is  quite  another.  Aims,  treatment, 
effects,  all  should  be  different.  Sombre  masses  of 
wood,  heavy  shadows,  these  should  be  present ;  above 
all  things,  there  should  be  avoidance  of  those  sudden 
surprises  and  graceful  deceits  by  which  gardeners 
sometimes  win  their  lesser  honors.  Great  simplicity 
of  design  is  also  essential,  not  only  as  in  keeping 
with  the  sepulchral  offices  of  such  ground,  but  being, 
to  a  certain  extent,  proof  against  the  harm  which  an 
elaborate  plan  must  suffer  by  injudicious  planting  in 
private  inclosures. 


LAYING   OUT  OF  GROUNDS.  203 

From  the  fact  last  named — the  giving  over  of 
individual  lots  to  private  caprices  of  planting  or 
arrangement,  no  consummate  or  finished  gardening 
can,  of  course,  ever  be  looked  for  in  our  cemeteries. 
The  general  effect  will  be  at  best  spotty,  and  lack 
coherence.  The  trail  of  the  principal  drives  or  walks, 
the  establishment  of  the  capital  masses  of  foliage,  the 
ordering  and  adaptation  of  the  encircling  belt,  the 
finish  and  appointments  of  the  entrance-way — these 
are  the  objects  which  will  demand  taste  and  skill  for 
their  happy  execution.  To  twirl  a  great  labyrinth 
of  serpentine  paths  through  a  forest,  shaven  clean  of 
its  under-brush — to  throw  rustic  bridges  over  a  flow 
of  sluggish  ditch-water,  and  to  construct  grottoes 
where  they  sit  like  mountebanks  in  the  hollows  of 
the  hills,  is  not  good  gardening  for  cemeteries — if  it 
be  good  anywhere.  If  there  be  great  reach  of  irreg- 
ular surface,  there  should  be  sunny  glades  to  contrast 
with  masses  of  solemn  shade.  Rustic  or  other  little- 
nesses should  not  pique  and  arrest  attention.  The 
story  of  the  place  should  be  told  in  the  largest  letters 
of  the  gardener's  vocabulary  and  the  interpretation 
easy — quiet — seclusion — REST. 

Something  might  be  said  of  the  character  of  the 
trees  which  should  be  planted  in  these  fields  of  the 
dead.  The  willow  is  the  traditional  weeper,  and  in 
place ;  but  such  product  of  the  gardener's  art  as  a 


204  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

weeping  ash  is  a  terribly  starched  mourner,  and 
should  be  banished  as  an  impertinence.  Ah1  curious 
and  rare  exotics,  I  should  say,  have  no  place  there ; 
unless,  like  the  yew  or  the  European  cypress,  they 
bear  some  story  of  association  which  chimes  evenly 
with  the  solemn  shadows  around.  The  darker  ever- 
greens generally,  are  most  fitting;  and  there  is  a 
variety  of  the  Norway  spruce,  with  long,  pendulous 
arms,  that  is  one  of  the  stateliest  and  comeliest  and 
friendliest  of  mourners  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  If 
the  Mediterranean  cypress  would  but  withstand  the 
rigor  of  our  season,  its  dark  plumes,  leading  up  on 
either  side  to  the  gateway  of  a  tomb,  would  make  a 
standing  funereal  hymn. 

Near  to  Savannah,  in  Georgia,  and  upon  one  of 
the  creeks  making  into  the  irregular  shores  there- 
about, is  a  cemetery  called,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
Buena  Ventura.  In  old  times,  any  visitor  at  the  Pulaski 
used  to  find  his  way  there,  and  was  richly  repaid  for 
the  visit.  There  was  no  proper  "keeping"  to  the 
grounds.  You  passed  in  under  a  lumbering  old  gate- 
way of  unhewn  timber ;  the  paths  were  not  carefully 
tended ;  there  was  much  of  rampant  and  almost  in- 
decorous undergrowth ;  the  tombs  were  mossy,  and 
the  graves,  many  of  them,  sunken ;  but  great  live- 
oaks  over-reached  your  path,  and  from  their  gnarled 
limbs  hung  swaying  pennants  of  that  weird  gray 


LAYING   OUT  OF   GROUNDS.  205 

moss  of  the  Southern  swamp  lands — festooned,  tan- 
gled, streaming  down — now  fluttering  in  a  light 
breeze,  and  again  drooping,  as  if  with  the  weight  of 
woe,  to  the  very  earth.  There  was  something  mys- 
teriously solemn  and  grave-like  in  it.  The  gnarled 
oaks  and  the  slowly  swaying  plumes  of  gray  told  the 
completest  possible  story  of  the  place.  Had  there 
been  no  tombs  there,  you  would  have  said  that  it  was 
the  place  of  places  where  tombs  should  lie  and  the 
dead  sleep.  I  have  alluded  to  the  scene  only  to  show 
what  and  how  much  may  be  done  by  foliage  and  tree 
limbs,  with  their  investing  mosses,  to  give  character 
to  such  a  spot. 

Neither  the  live  oak  nor  the  Spanish  moss  is  avail- 
able, indeed,  in  our  Northern  latitudes ;  but  there  are 
various  degrees  of  fitness  in  the  trees  at  command. 
The  yew  and  the  compact-headed  Austrian  pine,  and 
the  balsam  fir  are  always  in  their  sables ;  even  the 
much-degraded  Lombardy  poplar,  in  full  vigor,  car- 
ries a  ceremonious,  self-possessed  stifihess  not  unbefit- 
ting ;  while  the  glittering  leaved  beech,  and  horn- 
beam, on  the  contrary,  with  their  ceaseless,  idle  flut- 
ter, are  the  most  unseemly  of  chatter-boxes.  The  ash, 
again,  without  liveliness  of  color  has  great  dignity  of 
carriage,  and  in  its  half  mourning  of  autumn  purple  is 
one  of  the  stateliest  and  fittest  of  attendants. 

I  know  there  is  a  philosophy  which  denies  the 


206  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

propriety  of  seeking  for,  or  multiplying  any  solemn 
symbols  in  connection  with  death,  or  the  places 
where  the  dead  lie  ;  which  believes  in  opening  wide 
and  laughing  landscapes  around  graves,  and  in  smoth- 
ering all  memory  of  the  short-lived,  funeral  black 
under  the  gayest  of  colors.  It  seems  to  me,  however, 
that  so  far  as  such  a  philosophy  puts  its  meddlesome 
liveliness  upon  church-yards  and  tombs,  it  is  only  a 
gay  hypocrisy.  Death  is  always  death;  and  the 
place  where  the  dead  lie,  always  Golgotha.  The  real 
grief  that  goes  thither  with  its  bitterness,  will  be  put 
down  by  no  pelting  of  bright  colors,  and  mock  grief 
may  be  mended  by  what  solemnity  belongs  to  the 
scene. 

We  are  not  to  go  through  the  world  mourning,  it 
is  true  ;  but  the  graveyards,  thank  God,  are  only  in 
scattered  places.  And  if  we  can  spend  liveliness  and 
cheer  over  all  the  rest  of  our  ways,  we  can  surely 
afford  to  leave  the  funereal  plumes  hanging  over  the 
one  little  path  where  we  mourn. 


V. 


URBAN  AND   A    COUNTRY 
HOUSE. 


MR.    URBAN  AND   A    COUNTRY 
HOUSE. 


Real  Estate  Purchase. 

WHAT  on  earth  my  friend  Mr.  Urban  wants  of 
a  farm  of  fifty  acres,  I  do  not  know ;  but  lie 
wants  it.  At  least  he  says  as  much ;  and  I  am  not 
the  man  to  dispute  him.  I  feel  assured  that  when 
he  gets  it,  he  will  grow  red  in  the  face  over  it,  and 
perspire  fearfully,  and  use  language  forbidden  in  the 
decalogue,  and  find  his  pet  Aldemeys,  season  after 
season,  very  obstinately  dropping  calves  of  the  wrong 
sex,  and  his  steers  breaking  into  his  cabbage  patch. 
I  am  confident  that  he  will  feel  persuaded,  before 
the  end  of  the  first  year,  that  all  his  country  neigh- 
bors have  conspired  to  fleece  him,  and  that  the  butch- 
ers are  all  cut-throats — in  which  opinion  he  will  not 


210  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

be  far  out  of  the  way.  Notwithstanding  this,  which 
I  have  represented  to  him  in  the  mildest  manner  pos- 
sible, (seeing  his  infatuation,)  Mr.  Urban  still  wants 
a  fifty-acre  farm.  Of  course,  he  is  no  farmer ;  and  his 
idea  of  a  good  farmer  is  of  one  who  raises  large  vege- 
tables, keeps  his  fences  and  buildings  in  Pimlico 
order,  and  owns  fine  stock.  It  is,  I  must  be  allowed 
to  say,  a  somewhat  imperfect  idea.  He  has  not  the 
slightest  doubt  of  his  capacity  to  treat  land  ju- 
diciously, and  make  it  produce  huge  crops  at  a  min- 
imum of  cost.  How  he  expects  to  accomplish  this,  I 
do  not  know ;  neither,  I  think,  does  he. 

Naturally,  he  does  not  mean  to  buy  a  farm  full 
of  rocks  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  wishes  smooth  land — 
rich,  of  course,  with  no  uncouth  assemblages  of 
brush — gently  undulating  withal — giving  fine  views 
— not  hard  to  till,  with  serviceable  buildings  upon 
it — in  a  healthy  region,  convenient  to  schools,  rail- 
ways, churches,  mills,  steamboats,  and  the  world 
generally — with  ample  society  in  the  neighborhood 
— plenty  of  the  choicest  fruit — abounding  in  good 
spring-water — no  incumbrances,  and  at  a  very  low 
price.  All  this,  he  thinks,  is  to  be  found  easily,  any 
day  in  the  week,  and  that  a  moderate  sized  check 
will  transfer  it  to  his  possession. 

There  is  a  little  presumption  in  the  thought ; 
but,  if  the  advertisements  are  to  be  believed,  not 


iMR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     2 1 1 

much.  City-bred  men  have  indeed  rather  a  pre- 
sumptuous way  of  regarding  those  who  live  and 
gain  their  living  by  country  pursuits. 

Think  of  it  for  a  moment : — Here  (in  the  country) 
is  your  quiet  landholder,  living  in  the  performance 
of  a  humble  range  of  duties — rearing  brown-cheeked 
boys,  who  will  make  their  way  to  high  places  of 
trust — to  generalships,  to  governorships,  by  dint  of 
their  sturdy  habits  of  self-denial,  and  of  work,  which 
have  belonged  to  their  early  life ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  yonder  by  the  gas-lights  is  your  business  man 
of  the  city,  rearing  boys  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Broadway  shops,  who,  by  reason  of  no  self-denial 
at  all,  will  hardly  arrive  at  the  governing  even  of 
themselves  (to  say  nothing  of  States) ;  and  yet,  such 
a  person  counts  it  no  difficult  matter,  by  the  gains 
of  only  a  week's  profitable  venture,  to  oust  the  coun- 
tryman from  his  home,  and  take  possession  of  his 
lands.  It  is  lamentable  to  think  that  the  accomplish- 
ment of  such  undertaking  is  so  easy.  An  instinctive 
clinging  to  one's  home,  is  a  good  nucleus  for  the 
growth  of  orderly  virtues.  I  am  not  going  to  enter 
into  the  question  as  to  whether  the  better  man  may 
grow  up  under  trees,  or  under  brick  walls ;  it  is  a 
large  question  ;  and  there  is  a  leafy  side  to  it,  which, 
to  me,  is  particularly  engaging :  but  to-day,  our  con- 
cern is  with  Mr.  Urbf  ,n  and  his  search  and  its  results. 


212  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

As  I  have  said,  the  advertisements  are  most 
promising — so  also  are  the  representations  of  the 
real  estate  agents,  (the  most  citified  of  citizens,)  who 
are  loudest  in  their  praises  to  a  new  comer — of  some 
property,  dull  of  sale,  which  has  been  a  long  time  on 
their  books. 

And  here,  I  wish  to  interpose,  by  way  of  paren- 
thesis, a  suggestion — our  need  of  a  more  intelligent 
and  trustful  real  estate  agency  (so  far  as  relates  to 
country  homes,)  than  now  exists.  It  should  be  in 
the  hands  of  parties  who  have  lived  in  the  country, 
who  are  familiar  with  the  country,  and  with  coun- 
try resources,  and  country  drawbacks,  who  by  travel 
and  experience  are  competent  to  advise,  and  who 
by  large  intercourse  with  landholders  can  put  an 
inquirer  on  the  right  trail.  Still  further,  it  is  emi- 
nently desirable  that  such  party  be  able  to  furnish 
leading  hints  for  whatever  changes  may  be  requisite 
— the  system  of  management  that  may  be  safely  pur- 
sued, and  to  forecast  the  home  which  is  sought  for. 
I  am  by  no  means  suggesting  what  is  impracticable, 
or  impossible.  Older  countries  have  long  seen  the 
advantages  of  such  agency  as  I  describe.  A  man  of 
business  in  London,  who  after  a  series  of  successes 
conceives  the  idea  of  establishing  a  country  home, 
is  able  to  put  himself  at  once  in  communication  with 
certain  well-known  parties,  who  (though  they  may 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTR  Y  HOUSE.     2 1 3 

not  advertise  in  the  journals,)  are  understood  to  be 
in  correspondence  with  such  landholders  as  are  will- 
ing to  sell,  but  entertain  a  horror  of  seeing  their 
homes  and  lands  trampled  over  day  after  day  by 
whatever  curious  people  may  obtain  a  search  ticket 
from  the  established  and  ordinary  real  estate  agents. 
A  home  is  a  home,  even  to  the  humblest ;  and  to 
those  whose  needs  demand  a  peremptory  sale,  the 
interposition  of  some  adroit  agent  who  makes  the 
visit  of  a  purchaser  appear  to  be  only  the  visit  of  a 
curious  friend,  is  an  immense  relief. 

Still  more  important  is  it  that  such  negotiator  be 
competent  to  give  advice  based  upon  long  experience 
and  observation.  There  is  many  a  man,  my  friend 
Urban  among  them,  who,  conceiving  a  longing  for 
the  quietude  or  other  indulgences  of  the  country,  has 
yet  the  most  dun  and  vague  notions  of  what  he  is 
really  in  search  of.  Is  it  simply  a  quiet  reach  of 
garden  ground  which  may  supply  all  the  enjoyment 
of  the  lesser  fruits  ?  Is  it  sea  air  alone — or  mountain 
air,  simply — without  a  thought  or  care  of  anything 
beyond  ?  Is  it  shade  and  trees,  and  a  taste  of  wild- 
ness  ?  Is  it  the  care  of  fine  cattle  and  the  requisite 
attention  and  expenditure  ?  Is  it  a  two  months' 
disport  with  a  model-farm  in  summer,  without  much 
regard  to  the  returns  ?  Is  it  the  establishment  of  a 
country  home  which  shall  be  complete  in  all  its  equip- 


214  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

ments  ?  Not  one  in  ten  of  those  freshly  smitten  with 
a  desire  to  purchase  a  country  residence  can  definitely 
say.  So  much  the  more  need  of  one  who  can  intelli- 
gently, by  a  few  practical  questions,  interpret  their 
own  wishes  to  the  purchasers  themselves  and  fathom 
the  full  reach  of  their  country  longings. 


Cost  and  Returns  of  Fifty  Acres. 

A  FARM  of  fifty  acres  may  be  a  large  thing,  or  it 
•£-»-  may  be  a  small  thing ;  small,  if  remote,  and 
submitted  only  to  the  "hand  to  mouth"  culture  of 
the  average  farm-holder ;  but  large,  extravagantly, 
if  it  be  favorably  placed,  and  be  wrought  to  the 
full  measure  of  its  capacity  by  the  best  appliances 
of  agricultural  and  horticultural  art.  Yet  the  appli- 
cant at  the  city  offices  can  form  no  idea  of  this  dis- 
tinction, nor  will  his  queries  in  such  a  quarter  put 
him  in  the  way  of  arriving  at  the  just  grounds  of  such 
distinction.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  such  applicant 
(Mr.  Urban,  we  will  say,)  were  to  address  himself  to 
one  of  wide  experience  and  observation  in  such 
matters,  he  would  probably  say :  "  My  dear  sir,  do 
you  wish  a  fifty  acre  farm,  that  shall  return  revenue  ? 
Do  you  wish  it  as  a  plaything,  for  which  you  will  be 
willing  to  pay  as  much  annually  as  for  your  opera-box 
and  its  attendant  expenses  ?  Do  you  wish  to  engage 


MR.  URBA  N  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     i 1 5 

your  sympathies  in  the  affair,  and  demonstrate  some 
improved  method  of  culture  at  whatever  cost? 
Finally,  do  you  wish  it  as  a  summer  home,  enjoyable 
— through  all  the  time  of  leaves  and  fruitage — and 
not  a  cancer  upon  the  purse  through  all  the  remaining 
months  of  the  year  ?  " 

Well — not  one  in  ten  who  talks  vaguely  about 
having  a  farm — a  country  place — is  prepared  to 
answer  intelligibly  and  directly  such  questions.  Can 
you — who  have  sometimes  thought  of  giving  your 
children  breathing-room,  under  trees?  Can  you — 
who  have  sometimes  thought  of  glorifying  your  busi- 
ness successes  in  Wall  Street,  by  a  tasteful  home  in 
the  country  ?  Can  you — publisher,  jobber,  grocer, 
bookseller,  tailor — who  have  some  vague  notions  of 
eventually  giving  dignity  to  your  gains  by  establish- 
ing a  home  under  elms — have  you  any  precise  idea 
of  what  you  propose  ?  What  limit  of  land — what 
range  of  landscape — what  fertility  of  soil — what 
addenda  of  convenience  ? 

I  don't  think,  for  a  moment,  that  you  have ;  I 
don't  think  that  one  in  a  hundred  has,  who  amuses 
himself  in  dreamy  hours  with  forecasts  of  a  pleasant 
home  in  the  shade  of  oaks,  and  hi  the  midst  of  corn- 
lands,  which,  in  boyish  days,  he  knew — only  too  well. 
The  man  who  is  eager  for  a  town  purchase  of  house 
or  lot,  has  very  distinct  notions  (ordinarily)  of  the 


216  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

size  he  covets — the  number  of  rooms  requisite — of 
the  household  service  he  will  possibly  require,  and 
of  the  probable  range  of  his  annual  costs  in  maintain- 
ing the  same.  But,  with  respect  to  the  country, 
whenever  his  aspirations  turn  in  that  direction,  he  is 
in  a  maze.  He  counts  it  an  indulgence,  which,  like 
city  indulgences,  has  no  determined  laws  of  cost ;  it 
is  another  opera-box,  of  which  the  trees  make  the 
upholstery,  and  some  Killarney  manager  presents  the 
bills  in  brogue.  Under  these  conditions  of  uncer- 
tainty, an  intermediate  agent,  who  can  interpret  in 
some  measure  a  man's  own  indefinite  wishes,  and  by 
a  few  direct,  practical  questions,  reduce  his  intentions 
to  form,  is  eminently  needed — one,  moreover,  who, 
by  his  own  experience  and  observation,  can  suggest 
the  costs  and  capabilities  of  farm,  garden,  or  country 
seat,  and  enable  the  purchaser  to  take  a  complete 
trade  view  of  his  proposed  enterprise. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Urban — his  negotiations  must 
be  largely  through  the  established  real-estate  offices, 
or  by  personal  reply  to  the  newspaper  advertise- 
ments. These  leave  him  in  a  dreary  muddle.  Those 
who  have  had  experience,  know  why,  and  how.  The 
established  agencies  take  no  account  of  an  applicant's 
tastes,  or  positive  wants,  (if  he  were  able  intelligibly 
to  express  them,)  and  are  only  anxious  to  make  sale ; 
the  advertisements  are  naturally  exaggerated  to  a 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     2 1  ^ 

degree  that  makes  the  consequent  search  a  ludicrous 
bore.  One  "  charming  place "  is  next  to  a  great 
reach  of  marsh  land,  where  every  informant  is  pale 
and  quaking  with  the  ague ;  another  is  so  beset  with 
rocks  that  it  would  require  double  the  cost  of  pur- 
chase to  clear  a  smooth  bit  of  greensward  at  the 
door. 

Such  incongruities  naturally  shock  a  man  of  com- 
mercial susceptibilities — if  he  proposes  to  carry  them 
to  the  country  with  him.  Mr.  Urban  does ;  and, 
fretted  by  an  accumulation  of  mischances,  and  of 
misdirections,  as  well  as  by  not  a  little  conscious 
ignorance  of  his  own,  appeals  to  me  for  certain  prac- 
tical hints  in  way  of  guidance — putting  his  appeal 
indeed  in  the  shape  of  a  rambling  talk,  which  I  take 
the  liberty  of  digesting  into  this  formulary  of  ques- 
tions : — 

1st.  How  much  ought  fifty  acres  of  land,  with 
respectable  farm-house,  and  out-buildings,  within 
accessible  distance — say  not  over  three  to  four  hours 
from  the  city — to  cost  ? 

2d.  Will  the  possible  or  probable  revenue  from 
such  a  farm  be  sufficient  to  keep  it  in  good  order — 
best  of  order,  say — so  that  it  shall  not  become  a  bill 
of  expense  ? 

3d.  What  crops  or  treatment  will  insure  such 
return,  without  destroying  altogether  the  picturesque 
10 


218  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

effects,  or  requiring  me  to  cut  every  tree  upon  the 
place  ? 

4th.  Is  it  possible  to  secure  any  decent  man,  •with- 
out too  big  a  raft  of  children,  to  supervise  such  a 
farm — live  in  the  back  rooms — keep  the  smell  of  his 
cabbage  stews  sufficiently  under  cover,  so  as  to  enable 
me  to  enjoy  a  country  home  in-doors — (when  I  wish) 
and  relieve  me  of  all  the  fatigue  of  details  ? 

5th.  Supposing  I  purchase  such  a  place,  and  stock 
it  to  my  fancy,  and  reorganize  the  old  house,  or 
possibly,  build  a  new  one,  and  Mrs.  Urban  grows 
tired  of  it  all,  in  a  year,  or  two,  or  three,  is  there  any 
hope  of  my  getting  back  my  purchase  money  and 
costs,  or  a  sum  ranging  within  fifty  per  cent,  of  the 
same? 

6th.  "What  are  the  best  cattle  to  keep,  (supposing 
I  purchase,)  and  are  any  pears  better  upon  the  whole 
than  the  Bartletts,  and  do  you  know  of  a  maid  of  all 
work,  who  would  milk  upon  a  pinch,  and  stay  away 
from  mass  for  a  fortnight ;  and  is  the  patent  churn,  on 
show  at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Cedar  street, 
really  a  good  article  ? 

7th.  Which  do  you  think  the  best  for  eggs,  the 
Brahma  Poutras,  or  the  Cochin  Chinas,  and  do  they 
require  much  care  ? 

8th.  What  do  you  think  of  Jersey  for  a  country 
residence  ? 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     219 

When  a  man's  rambling  conversation  for  two  or 
three  hours  is  capable  of  digest  into  such  interroga- 
tive formula,  it  is  evident  that  he  has  some  rural 
intentions ;  and  I  proceed  to  reply  to  such  (in  behalf 
of  my  friend  Urban)  seriously  and  seriatim. 

The  price  of  land,  within  the  required  distance  of 
New  York,  is  as  variable  as  the  weather.  There  are 
lands  within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles  of  the  City 
Hall,  equipped  with  rocks  and  trees,  which  would  be 
dear  at  ten  dollars  the  acre,  and  there  are  lands 
within  the  same  radius,  equipped  with  rocks  and 
trees,  and  without  architectural  improvements,  which 
would  be  cheap  at  two  thousand  dollars  per  acre.  In 
fact,  there  is  no  rule  for  price  of  land,  as  prices  rule 
for  other  commodities.  Lands  along  the  Hudson,  for 
instance,  are  valued — for  their  river  views,  or,  may  be, 
the  social  attractions  of  their  neighborhood — at  prices 
upon  which  the  best  ordered  cropping  would  not  pay 
a  rental  of  one  per  cent.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
are  level  garden  grounds  on  Long  Island  to  be 
bought  at  prices  on  which  eight,  ten,  and  even  fifteen 
per  cent,  might  be  made  secure  by  judicious  culture. 
Within  four  miles  of  Edinboro  Castle  there  are  grass- 
lands which  rent,  per  acre,  for  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  year.  Of  course,  near  to  great  cities,  the 
rental  of  gardening  or  grazing-land,  is  measured  by 
the  length  of  lease — if  long,  it  is  worth  more ;  if 


220  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

short,  it  is  worth  less.  In  general,  I  should  say  that 
any  easily-tilled,  fairly  productive  land,  within  three 
miles  of  a  good  market,  (by  which  I  mean  any  city 
of  twenty-five  to  forty  thousand  inhabitants,)  ought, 
upon  a  ten  years'  lease,  to  pay  a  rental  of  at  least 
twelve  to  fifteen  dollars  per  acre.  This  supposes, 
however,  full  agricultural  or  horticultural  aptitude  on 
the  part  of  the  manager — a  qualification  which  rarely 
belongs  to  city  purchasers.  If  such  a  purchaser  looks 
simply  to  agricultural  rental,  as  a  justification  of  the 
enterprise,  he  can  hardly  afford  to  pay  more  than  two 
hundred  or  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  an  acre  for 
lands  adapted  to  easy  tillage.  But  a  largely  qualify- 
ing circumstance  lies  in  the  fact  that  all  such  lands 
near  to  centres  of  business,  take  on  annual  increase 
of  value  by  reason  of  the  growth  of  the  town.  In 
the  last  ten  years  such  rate  of  increase  in  all  thriving 
neighborhoods  might  safely  be  reckoned  at  six  to 
eight  per  cent,  for  each  twelvemonth.  This  is,  how- 
ever, only  true  of  those  farm-lands  which  lie  so  near 
to  cities  or  large  towns,  as  to  suggest  the  outlay  of 
new  roads  across  them,  or  a  prospective  demand  for 
suburban  building  lots.  In  view  of  this,  the  sagacious 
purchaser  of  a  fifty  acre  farm  will  not  leave  out  of 
view — if  he  desires  the  surest  possible  increase  of  his 
capital — the  attractiveness  of  the  land  for  building 
sites ;  and  if,  as  we  suppose,  his  purchase  be  within 


MR .  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     22 1 

fifteen  to  tweiity  minutes'  drive  of  a  growing  city,  he 
will  project  his  improvements,  whether  of  planting  or 
grading,  with  an  eye  to  its  ultimate  adaptation  for 
such  purpose. 

Will  the  farm  revenue  of  fifty  acres  pay  for  care 
and  keeping  ?  Most  unquestionably,  if  there  be  a 
reasonable  amount  of  smooth  tillable  land,  and  aver- 
age fertility,  and  no  woful  mismanagement.  If, 
however,  "  care  and  keeping "  are  understood  to 
imply  the  introduction  of  gravelled  walks  in  all 
directions,  and  trenching  for  shrubbery,  agricultural 
returns  will  scarcely  pay  for  the  weeding  and  the 
watering.  Luxuries  are  luxuries  all  the  world  over, 
and  must  be  paid  for  out  of  hand.  What  I  count 
legitimate  care  and  keeping,  is  such  management  as 
shall  insure  a  gradually  cumulative  fertility  to  the 
cultivated  portions,  a  neat  and  orderly  air  to  the 
necessary  buildings  and  walks,  and  a  gradual  but 
positive  development  of  those  features  which  con- 
tribute most  to  its  attractiveness  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence. 

As  for  the  proceeds  of  a  sudden  sale  growing  out 
of  disgust  with  the  rural  enterprise,  I  should  hope 
that  a  man — or  a  woman  either — might  be  duly 
punished  for  such  vacillation  of  purpose.  'Twould  be 
a  good  ethical  result,  whatever  might  be  its  econom- 
ics to  the  Urban  adventurers.  Any  such  quick- 


222  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

coining  disgust  arises,  I  think,  in  the  majority  of 
instances,  from  the  lay  out  of  more  considerable  im- 
provements than  can  be  thoroughly  kept  in  hand  or 
matured :  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  no  new  pur- 
chaser will  ever  pay  a  large  price  for  gravel  walks 
overgrown  with  turf,  or  gullied  by  the  rains,  or  for 
shrubbery  that  leads  a  starveling  life  in  a  great  en- 
compassing circle  of  foul  growth.  An  inferior  plan 
completed  is  always  more  salable  than  a  grandiose 
scheme  but  half  carried  out.  Again,  ornamental 
country  architecture  never  brings  its  cost,  save  under 
very  exceptional  conditions ;  therefore  the  proprietor 
who  forecasts  a  possible  early  sale,  should  be  very  coy 
of  placing  much  capital  in  flamboyant  joinery  or 
expensive  walks. 

On  the  other  hand,  whatever  expenditure  con- 
tributes to  the  real  productive  capacity  of  the  land, 
whether  in  the  way  of  drainage,  or  permanent 
fertilizers,  or  judicious  farm  buildings  proper,  will 
prompt  buyers,  and  in  nine  cases  in  ten,  return 
its  full  cost.  The  man  who  spends  five  thousand 
dollars  in  bringing  up  the  revenue  of  a  fifty-acre  farm 
from  four  hundred  to  a  thousand  dollars  a  year,  is 
working  upon  a  safe  basis ;  but  the  man  who  expends 
an  equal  sum  in  finical  equipments  of  house  and 
garden,  and  in  the  shaping  of  a  great  mass  of  walks 
and  the  planting  of  exotics — while  the  land  remains 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     223 

at  its  old  fixed  point  of  productiveness — may  find 
buyers  who  will  refund  the  cost  of  his  whims ;  but 
the  chances  are  by  no  means  in  his  favor. 

Another  large  source  of  disgust  with  rural  under- 
takings lies  in  the  difliculty  of  finding  efficient  and 
honest  directing  labor.  We  have  in  this  country  no 
class  of  farm  bailiffs  who,  by  education  and  tradition, 
know  their  duties,  and  quietly  perform  them.  "We 
have  indeed  shipments,  from  year  to  year,  of  stray 
specimens  of  this  old  country  class  ;  but  the  demo- 
cratic instinct  speedily  overtakes  them — of  becoming 
directors  in  chief.  As  good  democrats — which  of 
course  all  Americans  are — we  ought  not  to  regret 
this,  but  it  comes  awkwardly  in  the  way  of  a  great 
many  city  visions  of  rural  felicitude.  Mike,  who  has 
toiled  far  into  the  twilight,  under  the  shadows  of  the 
hills  of  Wicklow,  comes  deftly  and  easily  into  a  ten- 
hour  system,  by  virtue  of  which,  on  some  June  day 
your  out-spread  hay  lies  smoking  under  the  evening 
dew ;  and  Bridget,  the  stout  lass,  red-armed,  and 
crimson-cheeked,  commended  for  all  work,  who  has 
milked  the  spotted  kine  in  the  folds  that  border 
Killarney,  "  many  a  time,  and  oft,"  is  quick  to  com- 
prehend the  American  deference  for  the  sex,  and 
explodes  upon  you  with  "  Shure !  and  it's  niver  a 
woman's  work !  " 

But,  short-comings  of  subordinates  could  be  borne, 


224  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

if  we  might  be  sure  of  the  intelligent  and  faithful 
direction  of  superiors.  In  fault  of  this  from  outside 
sources,  Mr.  Urban,  if  he  insists  upon  his  fifty-acre 
experiment,  must  undertake  it  himself.  And,  in  that 
event — as  I  hinted  at  the  beginning — I  expect  to  see 
him  grow  fearfully  red  in  the  face,  and  struggle 
against  his  wife's  repinings,  and  yet,  through  all — if 
the  rural  love  be  strong  in  him — work  out  results 
that  will  be  charming  in  spite  of  their  toils. 

As  for  the  pears  and  the  Chittagongs,  about 
which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  my  friend  Urban  insti- 
tuted some  inquiries,  I  have  nothing  in  particular  to 
say.  Bad  fruit  is  due  more  to  lack  of  good  culture, 
than  to  choice  of  bad  varieties  ;  let  a  man  select  the 
best  specimens  he  can  find  in  the  city-markets — test- 
ing them  by  taste — secure  the  trees  from  a  nursery- 
man who  has  a  reputation  to  lose,  then  cultivate  with 
care,  and  he  will  never  lack  good  fruit. 

There  is  as  much  dilettanteism  in  pomology  as  in 
old  pottery,  or  in  poetry  ;  a  sound  man  who  wearies 
of  the  dilettanti  chooses  what  he  likes,  and  gives  it 
protection  and  reaps  his  reward.  I  would  as  soon 
think  of  choosing  my  fruits  by  the  advices  of  the 
horticultural  disputants,  as  of  choosing  my  pictures 
(if  I  ever  bought  them)  by  the  advices  of  the  news- 
paper critics.  The  pomologists  stand  related  to  those 
who  raise  fruit  for  home  enjoyment,  and  under  fair 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     225 

garden  culture,  as  the  lexicographers  and  philologists 
are  related  to  those  who  use  language  to  enwrap  a 
sermon  or  a  plea ;  a  finical  nicety,  if  it  engross  them, 
will  be  at  the  cost  of  vigor  and  directness  of  thought. 
So  of  the  improved  races  of  poultry.  The  hen- 
fanciers  are,  I  dare  say,  very  worthy  people ;  far  be 
it  from  me  to  pluck  a  feather  from  the  tail  of  any  of 
their  brood.  But  to  my  obscure  sense,  an  egg  is 
always  very  much  of  an  egg,  whatever  fowl  may  have 
the  laying  of  it.  Nor  can  I  detect  much  difference 
between  a  "  broiler  "  of  the  Chittagong,  or  any  other 
heathen  family,  and  the  "  broiler  "  Bridget  may  dress, 
and  lay  before  me  at  a  June  breakfast,  from  the 
cackling  company  that  have  always  laid  and  scratched 
about  the  dung-hills  of  our  Christian  country.  Nay, 
I  take  a  rather  pleasant  entertainment,  in  fancying  my 
cheerful  and  cackling  barn-door  brood  are  lineally 
descended  from  those  veterans  of  the  British  roost, 
who,  under  the  name  of  Chanticleer,  have  for  so 
many  centuries  lifted  up  their  welcome  to  the  morn- 
ing. There  are  family  associations  which  are  a  source 
of  pride  ;  what  if  my  gallant  fellow  in  white,  yonder, 
with  golden  legs,  and  blood-red  comb,  curveting  with 
wings  down-spread,  and  giving  a  coquettish  look  to 
the  demure  feathered  people  of  his  harem,  comes  in 
direct  lineage  from  the  alert  old  Chanticleer  of  the 
House  that  Jack  Built  ? 
10* 


226  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

This  is  the  cock  that  crowed  in  the  morn, 
That  waked  the  priest  all  shaven  ar,d  shorn, 
That  married  the  man  all  tattered  and  torn,  etc. 

Can  we  say  as  much,  or  fancy  as  much  for  an 
awkward,  frizzled  creature  of  Shanghae  name,  as 
stupid  as  the  celestials  with  their  hair  tied  into  a 
cue? 

And  yet  those  city  gentlemen  who  have  come 
newly  into  possession  of  fifty  acres,  or  ten  acres  of 
farm  land,  are  prone  to  distress  themselves  with  the 
notion  that  they  have  not  precisely  the  right  breed 
of  cattle,  or  hens,  or  geese.  Their  griefs  (allow  me 
to  say) — for  they  will  have  them — will  not  rest  upon 
BO  inconsiderable  a  base  as  a  wrong  choice  of  animals ; 
any  of  God's  creatures  will  be  good  enough,  if  they 
give  them  requisite  care. 


Question  of  localities. 

I  PERCEIVE  even  now  that  I  have  not  replied 
to  every  query  of  my  friend  Urban.     "  What  do 
I  think  of  New  Jersey  as  a  residence  ?  " 

I  know  a  great  many  excellent  people  in  New 
Jersey — entirely  unconnected  with  its  railway  system. 
I  have  reason  to  believe  that  there  are  villages  in  the 
retired  parts  of  the  State  where  the  houses  and  door- 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTR  Y HOUSE.     227 

yards  are  neat,  and  where  the  streets  are  not  filled 
with  offal  and  mangy  dogs.  Fifty  acres  of  land  in 
New  Jersey — soil  being  equal — will  bear  as  good  corn 
or  rye  as  in  any  other  spot  of  our  common  country 
where  the  sun  shines  with  equal  force.  I  do  not 
indeed  think  that  "  Vineland "  is  soon  to  become 
our  Eden,  or  that,  if  we  ever  have  an  Eden,  it  will 
lie  in  New  Jersey.  If  a  Euphrates  were  ever  to 
spring  up  in  the  Highlands,  I  doubt  much  if  it 
could  ever  cross  the  Central  or  the  Camden  and 
Amboy  track — without  good  lobby  management. 
All  this,  however,  is  said  jokingly. 

There  are  good  farms  in  New  Jersey ;  there  is 
most  excellent  garden-ground,  and — best  of  all — one 
can  come  from  it  easily  to  New  York.  There  is  no 
reason  why  its  near  lands  should  not  become  the 
paradise  of  fruiterers,  and  of  vegetable-growers  for 
the  market.  Its  general  surface — short  of  the  moun- 
tains, or  of  the  beautiful  rolling  lands  of  Monmouth — 
does  not  invite  those  who  look  for  the  picturesque  as 
well  as  the  practical. 

But  what  boots  it,  talking  of  this  or  that  locality  ? 
If  a  man  has  really  made  up  his  mind  to  be  shaven,  it 
matters  little  on  which  half  of  his  chin  the  operator 
shall  commence.  If  Mr.  Urban,  or  any  other  good 
friend,  is  determined  to  possess  himself  of  fifty  acres, 
he  will  undoubtedly  have  associations  which  will 


228  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

draw  him  in  this  or  that  direction,  against  all  reason- 
ing upon  the  mere  merit  of  the  land. 

Agriculturally  speaking,  it  does  not  much  matter 
where  the  amateur  farmer  may  go.  I  do  not  say  this 
ironically,  but  in  full  soberness.  If  a  man,  used  to 
city  life  and  its  lusts,  has  made  up  his  mind  to  redeem 
himself,  so  far  as  he  may,  by  grappling  with  fifty  of 
God's  acres,  and  by  putting  the  stamp  of  his  energy 
and  toil  upon  them,  he  cannot  go  wrong,  wherever, 
within  reasonable  distance,  the  hills  and  the  meadows 
are  spread  out.  Earnest  work  will  declare  itself 
effectively,  on  the  harsh  rocky  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
or  upon  the  unctuous  level  of  Jersey.  This  much, 
however,  is  to  be  said  practically — the  nearer  a  man 
can  establish  himself  to  one  of  those  great  avenues 
of  travel — that  is,  toward  Philadelphia,  Boston,  or 
Albany — the  more  sure  he  will  be  of  finding  sale  in 
the  event  of  failure,  and  the  more  sure  of  ready  and 
constant  market  for  whatever  produce  he  may  have 
on  hand. 

I  aim  perfectly  well  aware  that  my  friend  Mr. 
Urban  (and  others  of  like  humor)  will  insist  that  he 
has  no  intention  of  selling  out  or  of  marketing  ex- 
tensively. It  is  pleasant,  however,  to  feel  that  we  can 
do  such  things  if  we  choose.  From  my  own  observa- 
tion I  am  persuaded  that  the  man  who  has  no  chance 
of  selling  his  country  place  or  his  farm  is  always  a 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     229 

great  deal  more  eager  to  sell  than  the  one  who  has 
opportunities  flowing  upon  him  weekly.  Above  all 
things,  it  is  imperative  that  a  proprietor  who  would 
enjoy  to  the  full  a  delightful  country  place,  or  a  well- 
managed  farm,  should  allow  others  to  enjoy  it  with 
him.  By  which  I  mean,  that  his  improvements  and 
successes  should  be  in  the  sight  of  people,  and  not  in 
some  utterly  inaccessible  locality,  out  of  view  and 
out  of  mind. 

To  plant  charming  shrubberies  and  lay  down  cap- 
tivating walks  in  quarters  that  no  one  can  reach  but 
by  a  break-neck  scramble  over  abominable  roads,  is 
like  making  a  fine  speech  to  empty  benches — always 
an  ungrateful  thing  to  do,  as  many  a  good  man 
knows.  Half  the  charm  of  the  river-bank  places 
along  the  Hudson  lies  in  the  fact  that  they,  with  their 
surroundings,  really  form  a  part  of  that  great  water 
highway  of  travel — gazed  upon  every  summer  day 
by  the  world  that  floats  downward  and  upward 
through  the  mountain  gates  of  the  river,  dotting  the 
green  hills  with  lessons  which  every  floating  traveller 
may  read — massing  their  showy  rhododendrons  so 
that  thousands  from  below  and  above  may  see  the 
pink  crown  of  blossoms.  The  boat,  the  car,  those 
hundred  eyes,  do  not  steal  away  any  home-like  pri- 
vacy ;  they  equip  it  rather  with  a  new  content — the 
content  that  comes  of  seeing  others  enjoy  what  we 


230  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

enjoy  and  take  a  pride  in  ourselves.  Never  a  man 
yet,  no  matter  how  crotchety  or  unassailable,  who 
possessed  farm  or  garden,  into  whose  management 
his  pride  and  care  had  largely  entered,  but  enjoyed 
seeing  it  admired.  The  eye  of  the  world  upon  a 
man's  work  is  healthfully  stimulative.  He  who 
denies  it,  and  plants  for  his  solitary  gratification  only, 
has  a  weak  spot  in  his  head  or  heart,  and  deserves  to 
go  crazed  in  an  island-garden.  There  are  charming 
places,  so  far  as  banks  and  trees  and  water  view  go, 
along  the  far  away  shores  of  Long  Island,  but  it  is  a 
long  day's  journey  to  reach  them  over  a  road  where 
nobody  travels.  There  are  very  grateful,  inaccessible 
nooks  in  Rockland  County,  where 

"  A  hermit  hoar,  in  solemn  cell," 

might  wear  out  life's  "  evening  gray,"  very  jollily ; 
but  no  man  who  wants  his  flowers  to  catch  a  new 
tint  from  the  reflected  grace  of  fair  faces,,  wishes  to 
bury  himself  there.  There  are  magnificent  grazing 
farms  in  the  wilds  of  Greene  County,  great  waves  of 
rolling  hills,  great  Tors  of  shaggy,  shaded  cliff,  great 
wealth  of  brooks,  purling  amid  the  undulations  of  the 
meadows,  great  rampant  crests  of  forest  growth,  with 
century-old  hemlocks  piling  out  of  them  their  won- 
drous pagodas  of  green  ;  but  who  wants  the  torture 
of  a  drive  over  the  Catskills  to  enjoy  it  all  ? 
Mr.  Urban  does  not,  neither  do  I. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     23 1 


Testimony  of  Experts. 

AT  the  risk  of  iteration,  and  in  the  hope  of  throw- 
ing all  possible  light  upon  the  subject  under 
notice,  I  propose  the  examination  of  a  few  fifty-acre 
farmers,  who  shall  represent  respectively  the  stock- 
breeder, the  amateur,  the  business  man,  the  philoso- 
pher, the  practical  man  and  the  trader. 

Mr.  Urban  being  in  company — in  whose  interest 
the  inquiries  are  made — we  first  encounter  Mr.  Up- 
den,  of  Deep-Dale,  well  known  among  Committee 
men,  and  eminent  at  Agricultural  Fairs. 

His  system  is  simply — to  breed  cattle  of  pure 
blood.  We  venture  the  query — if  Mr.  Upden's  stock 
is  fed  mostly  from  the  land,  or  if  he  is  in  the  habit 
of  buying  food  ? 

Witness.  "  I  buy,  I  should  say,  from  twenty  to 
forty  tons  a  year." 

Mr.  Urban  innocently  asks  if  Mr.  Upden  makes 
sufficient  butter  for  the  consumption  of  his  family  ? 

The  question  is  almost  resented. 

"  Butter-making  is  an  annoyance.  Six  or  seven 
hundred  dollar  cows  can  be  put  to  better  uses.  I 
prefer  to  buy  my  butter." 

Query.  "  We  are  to  suppose  then,  I  think,  that 


232  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  milk  of  your  cows  goes  to  the  rearing  of  your 
young  animals.  Does  this  prove  sufficient  ?  " 

Witness.  "  In  most  instances ;  we  sometimes, 
however,  purchase  native  animals  to  suckle  our 
choice  calves." 

Query.  "  With  the  milk  from  two  cows,  I  sup- 
pose, you  are  able  to  rear  a  fine  oalf  ?  " 

Witness.  "  That  is  our  intention." 

Query.  "  Is  it  your  opinion  that  a  calf  so  reared 
will  be  able  to  sustain  itself  in  good  condition  with- 
out extra  feeding  for  a  series  of  years  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  do  not  understand  the  term  '  extra 
feeding.'  It  is  our  way  to  give  animals  whatever 
they  will  eat  at  whatever  cost." 

Query.  "  Is  there  an  active  demand  for  your  cattle 
from  practical  farmers  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Not  so  large  as  we  could  wish.  We 
sell  mostly  to  breeders." 

Query.  "  Are  the  prices  you  receive  remunera- 
tive ?  " 

Witness.  "  We  endeavor  to  make  them  so ; 
though  with  a  large  stock  on  hand  we  are  compelled 
to  pass  off  some  animals  on  private  terms." 

Query.  "  Have  the  results  been  such  as  to  war- 
rant you  in  recommending  to  a  friend  a  similar 
course  of  agricultural  operations  ?  " 

Witness.  "  If  the  friend  had  large  capital,  and  an 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     233 

assured  income,  independent  of  his  land,  and  had  a 
taste  for  fine  cattle  I  think  I  could  do  so." 

All  which  is  eminently  discreet :  hut  if  to  a  taste 
for  fine  cattle,  any  rurally  inclined  gentleman  adds  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  them,  and  aptitude  in  the 
handling  of  them,  and  a  keen  eye  for  the  apprehension 
of  their  good  or  bad  points,  (such  as  few  men  are 
born  to,)  he  may  become  a  successful  breeder.  But 
to  undertake  such  a  business  with  onJy  the  flimsy 
basis  of  a  love  for  fine  cattle,  will  prove  a  very  profit- 
less venture. 

The  next  witness  is  a  stout  man,  partially  bald, 
who  carries  a  bandana  pocket-handkerchief  and  per- 
spires freely — John  Heaviside,  of  Three-Hills  Farm : 
retired  from  business  going  on  five  years. 

Query.  "  Would  Mr.  Heaviside  be  good  enough 
to  detail  in  brief  hk  system  with  respect  to  stock  and 
labor  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Well  upon  my  word,  there's  not  much 
of  a  system.  I  keep  a  pair  of  carriage-horses,  and  a 
little  roadster  for  the  boys,  and  a  pair  of  mules,  and 
a  pony  and  a  saddle-horse,  and  we  sometimes  hire  a 
neighbor's  oxen.  Then  there's  a  cow  or  two  and 
their  calves ;  and  there's  a  foreman,  and  gardener,  ard 
coachman,  and  five  out-door  hands  in  the  summer." 

Query.  "  What  are  your  crops  principally,  Mr. 
Heaviside  ?  " 


234  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Mr.  Heaviside  dabs  the  top  of  his  head  reflec- 
tively, and  replies  :  "  Grass  and  vegetables,  I  should 
say,  mostly ;  and  fruit — we've  plenty  of  fruit." 

Query.  "  Do  the  sales  meet  the  expenses  of  the 
place  ?  " 

The  witness  gives  over  for  a  moment  his  exercise 
with  the  bandana  and  stares  blankly  at  the  questioner. 

Query.  "  You  sometimes  make  sales  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Oh !  yes — four  hundred  quarts  of 
blackberries,  for  instance,  the  last  season.  Upon  my 
word  and  honor  it's  true." 

Query.  "  Anything  further  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Not  that  I  know  of.  Mrs.  Heaviside 
could  tell  better.  She  claims  the  sales  for  pin- 
money." 

Query.  "  What  would  you  reckon  the  probable 
cost  of  maintaining  a  farm  of  fifty  acres  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  should  put  it  at  four  thousand  a 
year — taking  one  year  with  another." 

Query.  "  Have  you  much  shrubbery,  and  have 
you  laid  down  gravel  walks  ?  " 

Witness.  (Dabbing  cheeks  and  head ,  with  his 
bandana.)  "  Ouf !  miles  !  " 

Mr.  Heaviside,  upon  being  interrogated  on  that 
point,  testifies  that  there  is  no  lack  of  vegetables ; 
indeed,  he  is  of  opinion  that  enough  are  grown  for 
ten  families ;  why  so  many  he  is  unable  to  say ;  he 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     235 

believes  the  garden  was  laid  out  with  a  view  to  such 
an  amount,  and  of  course,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
garden  planted. 

On  being  asked  if  he  could  suggest  any  more 
economic  method  of  management  than  that  at  present 
pursued  he  seems  at  first  at  a  loss ;  but  being  pressed 
for  an  answer  "  would  allow  forty  acres  of  the  land 
to  grow  up  to  wood,  and  drop  the  gravel-walks." 

In  the  event  of  putting  his  farm  on  the  market, 
could  the  witness  hope  to  secure  the  original  price 
with  the  sum  for  improvements  added  ? 

The  witness  has  his  doubts. 

"  Could  he  realize  the  original  sum,  with  half  the 
cost  of  improvements  added  ?  " 

(His  farm  is  within  a  half-mile  of  a  very  lovely 
and  stagnant  little  town  of  Berkshire  County.)  Mr. 
Heaviside  loses  his  temper  and  retires,  being  joined 
by  a  young  lady  in  large  hoops,  who  cheers  him 
with  the  sight  of  a  lovely  new  carnation,  and  a 
charming  little  assemblage  of  the  new  Mathiola 
JBicornis. 

The  next  informant  is  Mr.  Limbold,  a  lithe,  wiry 
gentleman  of  great  self-possession,  and  a  refreshing 
breeziness  of  manner. 

He  has  purchased  a  farm  of  fifty  acres  within 
three  hours  of  New  York ;  he  spends  three  months 
there  in  mid-summer ;  his  wife  prefers  Newport,  but 


236  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

yields  to  him  in  consideration  of  a  fortnight  at  the 
close  of  the  season  at  the  Ocean  House.  He  has  not 
built — not  he  ;  he  has  added  a  wing  sufficient  for  his 
summer  accommodation.  He  has  not  employed  a 
Scotch  gardener — not  he.  The  old  owner,  a  practical 
farmer,  remains  in  charge  under  agreement  to  share 
sales,  the  owner  furnishing  half  stock  and  equip- 
ments. He  transports  his  household  the  twentieth  of 
June ;  and  by  contract,  shares  the  farmer's  larder, 
adding  such  private  delicacies  as  he  chooses.  He 
secures  all  his  winter  butter  and  poultry,  and  makes 
sales  of  the  excess,  on  partnership  account,  to  well- 
known  dealers.  The  farm  is  not  a  moth  to  him — by 
no  means.  Returns  fully  balance  the  interest  ac- 
count ;  and  the  farm,  lying  within  three  miles  of 
a  thriving  city,  is  rapidly  appreciating  in  value. 
In  view  of  this  fact,  he  expends  five  hundred  a 
year  in  such  improvements  as  will  make  the  land 
more  desirable  for  suburban  sites,  and  in  five  years 
hence  is  confident  of  quadrupling  his  money. 

Mr.  Urban,  who  has  wavered  under  the  Heaviside 
story,  is  as  cheerfully  intent  upon  his  farm  as  ever. 

The  next  witness  is  a  philosopher  and  reformer. 
He  believes  in  drainage — deep  drainage — in  sub-soil- 
ing, in  phosphates,  in  science,  in  anything  almost 
which  is  told  him  seriously.  The  consequence  is,  he 
has  bought  a  farm  that  no  one  else  would  buy,  and 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     237 

has  put  contrabands  and  refugees  of  various  sorts 
at  work  upon  it,  until  he  has  expended  more  money 
to  the  acre  than  was  ever  expended  for  agricultural 
purposes  in  Orange  County  before. 

Mr.  Creed  is  asked  at  what  depth  he  is  accustomed 
to  plant  his  drains  ? 

Witness.  "  Four  to  five  feet ;  six  feet  I  think  is 
better." 

Query.  "  And  if  you  come  upon  rocks  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  blast  them  out." 

Query.  "  And  you  find  a  profit  in  this  ?  " 

Witness.  "  It's  thorough." 

Mr.  Creed  has  possibly  misapprehended  the  ques- 
tion. 

Witness.  (Sharply.)  "Not  at  all  I  can't  tell 
about  profits ;  we  hear  too  much  of  profits ;  thorough- 
ness is  better.  Farmers  ought  to  do  things  thorough- 
ly. I  try  to  show  them  how." 

"  May  we  ask,"  resumes  Mr.  Urban,  "  what  are 
your  principal  crops,  Mr.  Creed — those  on  which  you 
place  your  main  reliance  ?  " 

Witness.  "I  am  trying  at  present  some  experi- 
ments with  vetches,  and  a  new  pumpkin,  recom- 
mended very  strongly  by  Dr.  Newton,  of  the  Agri- 
cultural Department.  I  am  also  making  trial  of  a 
few  new  grapes.  I  have  still  some  faith  in  the  Dios- 
corea  Batata." 


238  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Query.  "  Would  Mr.  Creed  recommend  to  an 
enterprising  young  man,  or  to  a  middle-aged  man, 
anxious  to  secure  a  home,  the  purchase  of  a  fifty-acre 
farm,  and  thorough  drainage  of  the  same  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  would  recommend  to  an  honest  young 
man  to  keep  as  clear  as  possible  of  the  cities  ;  country 
gains  are  honest  if  they  are  small ;  city  gains  are 
devilish." 

Query.  "  Are  we  to  understand,  Mr.  Creed,  that 
the  means  which  you  have  lavished  upon  your  farm 
operations  are  derived  from  the  land  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  shall  be  happy,  gentlemen,  to  further 
your  agricultural  investigations  ;  if  you  confine  your 
inquiries  to  that  class  of  subjects,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
make  reply." 

Query.  "  Is  it  your  opinion,  Mr.  Creed,  that  a  man 
of  energy  and  industry,  who  should  purchase  a  farm 
in  a  retired  district,  and  carry  out  your  system  of 
thorough  drainage  and  blasting,  would  lay  the  base 
of  permanent  pecuniary  success  ?  " 

Witness.  "  I  care  very  little  about  pecuniary  suc- 
cess. We  hear  altogether  too  much  of  it.  I  think  a 
young  man  of  industry  and  good  habits  might  secure 
a  competence  by  hard  work  anywhere  in  the  coun- 
try ;  and  with  a  competency  any  man  ought  to  be 
content.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  should  recom- 
mend land  with  as  few  permanent  rocks  as  possible." 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     239 

Mr.  Creed,  it  appears  further,  is  the  owner  of 
quite  a  number  of  pure-bred  animals ;  but  his  fences 
falling  into  a  bad  condition  in  the  course  of  his 
improvements  and  experiments,  (some  of  these  being 
in  the  shape  of  patent  hurdles,)  and  his  neighbor's 
male  animals  being  intrusive  and  aggressive,  he  is 
not  quite  sure  of  his  calves.  His  sales,  therefore, 
have  been  subject  to  the  discount  of  the  uncertainty, 
and  have  brought  only  fair  butcher's  prices.  It  is 
hinted  that  the  adjoining  farmers  laugh  at  Mr. 
Creed's  operations.  But  in  what  age  have  the  rustics 
failed  to  laugh  at  a  philosopher  ? 

We  next  encounter — in  the  person  of  Mr.  Sloman 
— an  eminently  respectable  man,  of  the  upper  part  of 
Westchester  County,  who  has  managed  his  farm  of 
fifty  acres  for  the  past  thirty  years. 

Query.  "  Do  you  find  a  profit  in  farming  Mr.  Slo- 
man ?  " 

Witness.  "  Waal,  that's  as  folks  count  profit. 
These  'ere  chaps  that  go  into  heavy  wallin'  and 
drainin'  may  be  don't  count  profit  as  we  count  it. 
If  I  keep  my  family  along,  and  buildins  in  repair, 
and  put  up  five  or  six  hundred  dollars,  I  call  it  a 
pooty  clean  thing." 

Query.  "  Would  you  tell  us,  Mr.  Sloman,  some- 
thing of  your  method  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Waiil,  there  an't    much    method    to 


240  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

speak  of.  We  keep  ten  or  twelve  cows  through  the 
summer,  accordin'  to  the  season  ;  if  hay  is  lookin'  up, 
'long  in  the  fall,  we  fat  an  old  cow  or  two,  and  may 
be  a  pair  of  cattle.  We  mean  to  keep  our  mowin' 
up  and  put  eight  or  ten  acres — 'cordin'  to  the  season 
— in  corn  and  potatoes." 

Query.  "  Potatoes  are  a  pretty  good  crop,  are 
they  not,  Mr.  Sloman  ?  " 

Witness.  "  There  an't  no  better  crop,  if  a  man  is 
nigh  enough  to  market  to  send  in  a  hundred  bushels 
a  day  without  worryin'  his  team." 

Mr.  Sloinan  being  asked  his  opinion  in  regard  to 
the  improved  systems  of  husbandry,  replies : 

"  Waal,  I've  pooty  much  made  up  my  mind  that 
books  is  books,  and  farmin'  is  farmin'.  I've  nothin' 
to  say  agin  these  gentlemen  that  like  to  spend  money 
a'  ditchin' ;  I've  nothin'  to  say  agin  a  good  tidy  crittur, 
and  you  may  call  her  Durham,  or  you  may  call  her 
what  you  like.  If  she  fills  a  pail  she  comes  up  to  my 
idee  of  a  good  critter;  if  she  doan't — she  doan't. 
That's  my  opinion.  Maybe  I'm  wrong ;  but  that's  my 
way  o'  lookin'  at  it." 

An  effort  is  made  to  bring  back  the  inquiry  to  a 
niore  definite  issue  by  asking  Mr.  Sloman  "  what  he 
thinks  about  the  labor  question  ?  " 

Witness.  "  Waal,  good  help  is  ruther  skerce." 

Your  intensely  practical  man  under  question — 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     241 

unused  to  formal  investigation — is  apt  to  bring 
forward  the  awkward  facts  that  confront  him  every 
day,  without  measuring  their  relations.  It  appears 
in  the  end  that  Mr.  Sloman  pays  out  some  four  to 
five  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  labor — in  addition  to 
his  own  and  that  of  his  boy  of  fifteen.  Reckoning 
this  at  five  to  six  hundred  more,  it  would  appear  that 
the  needed  labor  upon  a  farm  of  fifty  acres  under 
ordinary  cultivation  would  be  not  far  from  a  thou- 
sand dollars.  Meeting  this,  and  the  taxes,  and  "  put- 
ting by  "  some  four  or  five  hundred  from  his  returns, 
the  country  proprietor  thinks  he  is  doing  a  very  fair 
thing.  When  a  man  of  this  stamp  is  confronted  with 
such  statements  as  appear  from  sanguine  Western 
vineyardists,  about  a  return  of  six  thousand  dollars 
per  acre  for  land  in  vines,  "prepared  with  the 
plow  at  a  cost  of  twenty-five  dollars  the  acre,"  he 
simply  puts  a  fresh  quid  in  his  cheek,  and  indulges  in 
remarks  not  creditable  to  the  veracity  of  the  vine- 
yardist. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  real  truth  lies  mid- 
way between  the  parties.  Mr.  Sloman,  with  his  old- 
fashioned  habits,  is  not  accomplishing  the  half  that 
ought  to  be  accomplished  with  his  fifty-acre  farm ; 
the  not  unfrequent  extraordinary  representations  of 
vineyard  product,  on  the  other  hand,  I  cannot  but 
regard  as  palpable  exaggerations.  I  have  not  the 
11 


242  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

slightest  notion  that  a  vineyard  in  Missouri — how- 
ever exquisite  the  vintage — wiU  return  the  treble  per 
acre  of  the  Lafitte  estate  of  Medoc.  There  have 
been  exceptionable  periods — as  in  the  days  of  the 
Morus  Multicaulis  fever — when  an  acre  under  ordi- 
nary cultivation  would  yield  its  three  or  four  thou- 
sand dollars  of  profit ;  but  whoever  makes  such  excep- 
tional returns,  whether  due  to  wine  or  mulberry 
delirium,  the  basis  of  certain  and  continued  horticul- 
tural successes,  is  either  blinded  by  his  enthusiasm, 
or  wantonly  misleads. 

I  record  one  other  fifty-acre  experience.  Mr. 
Stimpson,  an  active,  red-bearded,  prompt  man,  is 
understood  to  have  purchased  some  eight  years  since, 
a  farm  of  some  forty  to  fifty  acres,  within  a  couple 

of  miles  of  the  thriving  city  of ,  for  the  sum  of 

twenty  thousand  dollars.  Does  he  recommend  a  simi- 
lar purchase  to  such  inquirers  as  Mr.  Urban  ? 

Witness.  "  If  Mr.  Urban  can  make  as  good  a  pur- 
chase— unhesitatingly." 

Mr.  Stimpson  has  found  his  farming  profitable 
then? 

The  witness  begs  to  correct  a  possible  misappre- 
hension ;  his  farming  was  not  profitable.  He  had 
undertaken  the  raising  of  vegetables ;  but  he  could 
never  find  a  grocer  or  vegetable  dealer  who  would 
pay  him  half  price  for  them  ;  he  undertook  the  small 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     243 

fruits,  but  between  the  destruction  of  baskets,  small 
prices,  or  the  payment  of  vagabond  berry-pickers 
from  the  town,  (who  trampled  down  more  in  value 
than  they  gathered,)  he  abandoned  that  scheme  ;  lie 
thinks  he  never  bought  a  cow,  but  he  paid  one  third 
more  than  she  was  worth,  to  the  shrewd  neighbors 
who  hemmed  him  in  ;  if  labor  was  twenty  dollars  a 
month,  he  could  never  get  it  under  twenty-five  ;  his 
breeding  sows  inevitably  devoured  the  half  of  their 
litters,  though  his  watchfulness  was  constant — (per- 
haps too  constant.)  As  for  horses,  he  never  bargains 
for  one  now,  but  he  insists  that  he  should  have  a 
spavin  or  two  and  the  heaves,  and  by  strict  insistance 
on  this,  he  has  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  some  of 
the  defects  in  advance — a  satisfaction  he  never  had 
until  he  adopted  the  rule ;  he  had  undertaken  the  sale 
of  milk  in  a  weak  moment  of  resolve,  but  he  found 
he  was  selling  large  quarts,  whereas  his  rivals  in  the 
traffic  were  all  selling  small  quarts — he  was  selling 
pure  milk,  and  the  neighbors  were  cooling  down  their 
overheated  cans  with  an  infusion  of  cool  spring  water. 

In  short,  Mr.  Stimpson  declares  that  between  dis- 
contented and  overpaid  laborers  he  could  not  realize 
four  per  cent,  upon  his  purchase,  with  his  own  super- 
vision and  anxieties,  (which  were  immense,)  thrown 
into  the  bargain. 

"  And  yet  you  would  purchase  ?  " 


244  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

"  This  is  the  explanation,"  says  the  witness ;  "  the 
increase  of  population  and  manufactures,  has  brought 
the  skirts  of  the  town  upon  me.  I  have  opened  a 
new  street  or  two ;  I  have  already  sold  three  very 
charming  sites  at  prices  which  cover  all  my  original 
payment,  and  I  have  some  half-dozen  in  hand,  after 
the  sale  of  which  I  shall  still  have  my  homestead 
with  some  four  or  five  acres,  which  I  can  afford  to 
devote  to  horticultural  pursuits  ;  or  if  my  wife  insists 
— and  when  she  does  insist  she  insists  pretty  strongly 
— I  can  retire  to  town  with  my  investment  trebled." 


Results  of  Inquiry. 

I  HAVE  thus  brought  to  view  through  the  vehicle 
of  an  imaginary  examination — and  in  the  interest 
of  my  friend  Mr.  Urban,  and  similar  inquirers — all 
the  aspects  of  a  fifty-acre  farm  purchased  at  the  East, 
with  which  I  am  familiar.  The  inquiry  as  herein  set 
forth,  may  possibly  help  him  to  an  intelligible  decision. 
There  may  be  learned  from  it,  I  think — First : 
that  with  unlimited  means,  and  the  simple  wish  to 
lavish  them  in  country  employments,  it  matters  very 
little  where  a  man  may  establish  himself,  or  what 
special  whim  he  adopts — whether  for  fine  cattle,  or 
horticultural  successes ;  but  he  may  be  assured  that 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     245 

he  will  win  no  confirmed  triumph  in  either  one  or  the 
other,  without  having  a  personal  love  for  the  business 
and  a  knowledge  of  it,  or  without  employing,  invari- 
ably, those  who  do  have  such  love  or  knowledge. 

Second  :  it  may  be  fairly  inferred  that  a  fifty-acre 
purchase  is  not  necessarily  a  bad  affair,  even  if  the 
purchaser  is  not  personally  competent  to  direct  opera- 
tions, provided  he  has  the  shrewdness  to  avail  him- 
self of  the  experience  and  good  common-sense  of 
those  who  have  the  competency. 

Third :  it  may  be  learned  that  all  the  theories 
about  drainage,  and  particularly  breeds,  and  the 
blasting  away  of  rocky  fastnesses,  and  the  use  of  con- 
centrated manures  will  avail  nothing,  except  they  be 
under  the  direction,  and  subject  to  the  execution  of  a 
thoroughly  practical  man,  who  has  an  eye  to  sale  as 
well  as  purchase,  and  to  crop  as  well  as  tillage. 
Philosophers,  at  best,  make  doubtful  farmers :  but 
adventurous  philosophers  whose  brains  bristle  with 
theories,  and  who  are  without  that  breadth  of  knowl- 
edge which  enables  a  man  to  compare  theory  with 
theory  and  understand  remote  as  well  as  immediate 
relations,  make  the  worst  farmers  it  is  possible  to 
imagine.  I  have  a  high  regard  for  our  agricultural 
newspapers,  and  think  they  are  doing  far  more  good 
than  our  agricultural  colleges  (as  developed  thus  far) ; 
but  there  are  weaklings,  who,  finding  support  from  a 


246  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

newspaper  correspondent  for  some  ill-digested  theory 
of  their  own,  leap  to  monstrous  conclusions. 

Fourth :  the  inquiries  will  show  that  a  shrewd, 
old-fashioned  farmer — no  matter  where  his  land  may 
lie — may  make  fifty  acres  yield  fair  return,  and  not 
involve  inordinate  expenditure.  True,  very  possibly, 
that  such  as  my  friend  Mr.  Urban  do  not  wish  to  live 
as  Mr.  Sloman  lived,  or  to  labor  as  he  labored ;  but  his 
report  (which  may  be  well  substantiated)  is  a  fair 
indication  of  the  possibilities  of  fifty-acre  farming. 

Fifth :  it  is  clearly  enough  demonstrated  that 
however  inapt  a  man  may  be  at  farming  or  horticul- 
tural pursuits,  if  he  have  the  business  forecast  to 
make  purchase  of  land  near  to  a  growing  centre  of 
population,  his  pecuniary  success  is  made  sure.  There 
is  indeed  a  sort  of  commercial  genius — of  low  rank  it 
may  be — which  consists  in  simply  holding  on  to  land 
when  the  tide  of  population  surges  around  it,  and  the 
"  offers  "  beat  like  waves  upon  it,  and  spend  a  great 
spray  of  promise  over  it. 

In  view  of  all  these  "  findings  "  Mr.  Urban  can- 
not surely  be  at  a  loss  to  regulate  his  determination. 
If  his  means  are  large,  (as  largeness  is  counted  now- 
adays,) and  he  has  a  love  for  fine  cattle  of  best  blood, 
let  him — anywhere  he  will, — import  the  best  animals, 
look  to  their  rearing,  and  he  may  establish  a  herd 
that  will  carry  away  the  premiums  and  give  him 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     247 

reputation,  if  they  give  him  no  profit.  Great  repu- 
tation may  go  without  great  profit,  though  great 
profit  hardly  ever  goes,  in  our  time,  without  great 
reputation. 

If  he  have  a  fancy  for  architectural  and  other 
decorations,  it  may  safely  be  said  that  fifty  acres  will 
f  urnish  ample  margin  for  the  most  riotous  expendi- 
ture. It  is  quite  amazing  indeed — as  much  to  the 
proprietor  as  outsiders — to  witness  the  voracity  with 
which  a  small  place  even — under  elegant  and  mis- 
guided direction — will  consume  moneys.  The  en- 
grossing tastes  of  the  city  are  not  without  a  capa- 
bility in  this  direction ;  but  one  or  two  good  sand- 
banks, a  small  ledge,  a  plantation,  and  artificial  ponds 
— in  connection  with  a  rural  taste  which  is  ambitious 
without  being  experienced,  will  I  think  absorb  money 
as  easily  as  any  outlets  of  the  metropolis. 

I  should  strongly  counsel  Mr.  Urban,  or  any 
other,  who  feels  this  inclination  possessing  him, 
thoroughly  to  mature  his  plans  before  beginning; 
there  is  no  rural  wasting  so  monstrous  as  the  waste 
of  building  walls  and  removing  them,  or  of  excavat- 
ing valleys  and  the  next  summer  filling  them  up.  A 
few  judicious  hints  at  the  beginning,  based  on  good 
sense  and  taste  combined,  may  work  the  saving  of 
thousands.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  pleasant 
scenes  of  the  Central  Park  are  to  be  credited  (or 


248  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

charged)  with  a  great  deal  of  riotous  or  ineffective 
private  expenditure :  those  who  have  gleaned  all 
their  knowledge  of  landscape-gardening  from  that  out- 
of-door  school — a  very  charming  one  in  many  of  its 
features — have  left  out  of  consideration  the  fact,  that 
public  expenditure  knows  no  economies,  and  an  army 
of  lazy  laborers,  dragging  at  the  bosom  of  the  public 
treasury,  may  keep  in  presentable  shape  the  walks 
and  drives  which  would  be  ruin  to  a  private  holder. 
The  rule  of  action,  as  of  taste,  in  public  parks,  is,  to 
produce  the  best  effects  at  inordinate  cost :  the  whole 
question  of  economy,  whether  of  establishment  or 
future  treatment,  is  eliminated  from  discussion.  With 
private  holders,  on  the  other  hand,  the  great  ques- 
tion is, — what  effects  may  be  produced  at  a  minimum 
of  cost  for  their  establishment,  and  at  a  minimum 
of  cost  for  their  future  annual  keeping. 

For  these  reasons,  I  think  the  ruralist  who  medi- 
tates a  repetition  of  a  bit  of  the  Central  Park  upon 
his  grounds,  will  sink  fearfully  in  the  mire  of  costs 
and  of  mud.  There  are  charming  features  in  the 
Park  undoubtedly,  but  the  charming  things  are,  most 
of  them,  underlaid  with  gold,  and  will  be  found  to 
require  a  golden  watering  for  a  long  time  to  come. 

Again,  if  Mr.  Urban  or  any  other  farm  adventurer 
has  his  chemical  or  other  hobbies  which  he  wishes  to 
carry  out,  let  him  not  count  implicitly  upon  his 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UN  TR  Y  HO  USE.     249 

power  to  uproot  in  a  season  all  the  practices  of  cen- 
turies. There  is  an  obstinacy  (after  all)  in  God's  soil 
and  seed-beds  which  humiliates  the  wittiest  lecturers 
or  the  best  adepts  at  the  retort.  If  he  be  thoroughly 
infected,  I  only  counsel  modest  expectations — a  proper 
humanity  toward  his  working  cattle,  and  the  ordinary 
business  foresight  of  keeping  a  good  balance  at  his 
bank  when  the  bills  come  in. 

If  he  has  neither  short-horn  nor  landscape  ambi- 
tion, and  is  not  infected  with  any  mania  of  drainage, 
or  peat,  or  Liebig — wishing  only  the  grateful  shade 
from  trees  not  subject  to  the  visitations  of  the  curcu- 
lio,  and  a  sweet  bowl  of  milk  to  his  supper,  let  him 
not  be  too  eager  to  discard  the  offices  of  those  old- 
style  farmers,  who,  if  not  adepts  in  culture,  are 
adepts  in  saving. 

Finally,  if  his  rural  fantasy  is  only  a  short-lived 
whim  that  may  pass  one  day — if  not  from  his  own 
mind,  at  least  from  the  more  sensitive  and  demon- 
strative mind  of  his  help-meet — let  him  buy  where  he 
can  sell.  He  may  be  sure  that  the  trees  will  lose 
none  of  the  pleasantness  of  their  leafy  rustle  if  it  be 
spent  on  ears  that  listen  more  eagerly  than  his  own. 
His  porches,  his  arbors,  his  walks,  his  fields  will 
entertain  him  none  the  less,  if  covetous  eyes  look 
over  the  fence  at  them.  There  may  be  something 

very  wicked,  but  there  is  something  very  human  in 
11* 


250  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  cheerfulness  with  which  we  watch  people  break- 
ing the  tenth  commandment.  Horace  has  touched 
the  matter  prettily  in  his  satire  ;  but  he  might  have 
added  that  the  merchant  is  never  so  contented,  as 
when  he  hears  the  old  soldier,  or  the  officer  on  half- 
pay  exclaim  :  "  0  fortunati  mercatores  !  "  And  the 
country  is  never  more  charming  than  when  we  read 
— and  reading,  believe — 

"  Agricolam  laudat  juris  legumque  peritus." 
When  Mr.  Urban  shall  have  made  the  skilful 
lawyer  covetous  of  his  fruits,  his  fields,  his  walks,  he 
may  sell — if  he  chooses.  As  I  said,  we  never  cease 
breaking  the  tenth  commandment  and  trying  to  make 
other  people  break  it.  And  pray,  who  keeps  the 
other  nine  ? 

Country  ITouses  and  ^Repairs. 

WHAT  man  or  woman  of  us  all  does  not  some 
time  think  of  a  house  that  shall  one  day  be  a 
home  ?  Who  does  not  ponder  the  subject — forecast 
its  details — outline  its  surroundings — invest  it  with 
charms — dally  with  its  image,  and  give  to  his  imagin- 
ings a  most  grateful  acceptance  ?  For  my  own 
part,  I  think  I  began  to  build,  when  as  yet  I  stood  in 
daily  fear  of  the  ferule  of  a  school-mistress,  and 
when,  under  a  knitted  Scotch  school-cap,  there  came 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     251 

into  my  brain  a  delicious  jumble  of  porches  and  gables 
and  broad  roofs  dappled  over  with  the  sunlight  and 
the  shadows.  I  cannot  doubt  but  that  very  many 
others  have  had  much  the  same  experience. 

There  is  a  class  indeed  (not  very  large,  I  should 
hope)  of  both  men  and  women,  always  afloat,  who 
find  all  their  home  appetites  in  those  great  caravan- 
saries which  we  call  hotels,  and  whose  local  attach- 
ments must  be  of  a  very  vague  and  illusory  char- 
acter :  but  I  cannot  fancy  such  among  my  readers — 
first,  because  these  have  no  leisure  to  listen  to  what  I 
may  say ;  and  next,  because  their  sympathies  must 
be  altogether  remote  from  the  topics  I  discuss.  I 
address  myself  rather  to  those  who  have  some  day 
had  thoughts  of  building  houses  of  their  own,  and 
who  have  invested  the  thought  with  a  thousand 
homely  fancies. 

A  low,  gray,  irregular  range  of  buildings  with  a 
multitude  of  gables,  and  here  and  there  a  turret  lift- 
ing above  them — broad  windows  blazing  in  the  sun- 
light, and  windows  darkened  with  trailing  festoons 
of  some  wall-creeper — an  ample  hall  of  entrance,  with 
quaint  stairway  climbing  to  some  landing  lit  with  an 
oriel — a  blue  chamber,  a  green  chamber,  an  oak 
chamber — rambling  corridors  opening  upon  yet  other 
chambers — a  great  dim  garret  with  the  sunlight  flash- 
ing in  through  some  dormer  window  upon  roof-beams 


252  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

hung  wi£h  dried  herbs  and  gone-by  clothing  and 
wreck  of  discarded  furniture — porches  that  invite  and 
protect  and  throw  welcome  shadows  on  the  door — 
little  mantling  rooflets  of  windows  that  temper  the 
glare  of  day,  and  at  dusk  break  the  dark  mass  of 
building  with  picturesque  outlying  angles  :  I  think  I 
have  indicated  some  of  the  features  which  belong  to 
most  people's  ideal  of  a  country  home.  But  who 
makes  them  real  ?  who  reaches  their  ideal  in  any 
thing — whether  in  home,  in  reputation,  or  success  of 
any  sort  ? 

But  as  regards  the  country  home,  what  is  in  the 
way  ?  We  will  suppose  that  our  friend  Mr.  Urban 
has  possessed  himself  at  last  of  the  fifty  acres  he 
sought  for ;  there  is  wood,  there  is  water,  there  are 
meadows,  and  withal  there  is  an  old  farm-house,  the 
home  of  the  out-going  owner,  with  its  clumps  of 
lilacs,  its  bunches  of  syringa,  its  encompassing  mat 
of  green  sward.  Its  site  is  not,  may  be,  precisely  the 
one  that  he  would  have  chosen ;  but  the  poor  drag- 
gled bit  of  shrubbery  and  the  mossy  cherry-trees  that 
stand  near  give  to  it  a  pleasant  homeliness  of  aspect, 
with  which  any  new  site  with  its  raw  upturned 
gravels  and  fresh-planted  shrubs  must  for  a  long  time 
contrast  very  painfully.  Thus  the  question  comes  up 
— more  appealingly  every  day  he  looks  on  it,  Will 
not  the  old  hulk  do  with  a  little  modernizing  ?  And 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     253 

the  thought  of  putting  a  new,  jaunty  look  upon  the 
old  tame  outline  of  building,  has  something  in  it  that 
is  very  captivating. 

This  suggests  our  first  topic  of  discussion — Is  it 
wise  to  undertake  the  repair  of  an  old  country  house  ? 
The  builder  or  the  architect,  eager  for  a  fat  job,  will 
say  no :  the  mistress,  with  a  settled  distaste  for  low 
ceilings  and  wavy  floors  that  tell  fearfully  upon  the 
carpets,  will  say  no :  but  a  practical  man  will  be 
guided  in  his  decision  by  the  condition  of  the  build- 
ing, and  by  the  range  of  the  proposed  changes.  Two 
or  three  axioms  in  connection  with  this  subject  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  bear  in  mind.  First:  it  is 
never  quite  possible  to  make  an  altogther  new  house 
out  of  an  old  one.  Second :  it  is  the  most  difficult 
thing  in  the  world  to  determine  in  advance  the  cost 
or  limit  of  the  proposed  repairs  to  an  old  country 
house.  Third :  it  is  altogether  impossible  to  say  in 
advance  that  any  system  of  change,  however  deliber- 
ately considered,  will  prove  ultimately  satisfactory  to 
the  (female)  occupants. 

These  truisms  would  seem  to  count  against  the 
undertaking  to  remodel  an  old  house  :  yet  there  are 
conditions  which  make  it  eminently  wise,  as  well  in  a 
practical  as  in  an  aesthetic  point  of  view. 

If,  for  instance,  the  walls  be  of  stone  or  brick,  and 
not  wholly  inconsiderable  in  extent,  it  would  be  bad 


254  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

economy  as  well  as  bad  taste  to  sacrifice  them  to  any 
craving  for  newness.  In  the  brick,  if  well  laid,  a 
man  may  be  sure  of  stanchness ;  and  in  the  stone, 
with  the  lichens  of  years  upon  it,  he  has  a  mellowness 
of  tone  which  not  all  the  arts  of  the  decorators  can 
reach.  But  even  upon  walls  of  such  material,  es- 
pecially if  they  carry  the  blotches  of  age,  it  will 
never  do  to  engraft  the  grandiose  designs  of  the 
modern  builders.  If  a  country  liver  be  really  am- 
bitious to  match  all  the  pretensions  of  the  latest  arch- 
itecture in  respect  of  high  ceilings  and  mansard-roofs, 
let  him  begin  by  pulling  down ;  but  if  his  aim  be  of 
that  finer  temper  which  seeks  to  qualify  what  is  old 
by  enlargement  of  dimensions  and  by  such  simple 
decorative  features  as  shall  add  a  piquancy  to  the 
wrinkles  of  age — even  as  the  twist  of  some  sober- 
colored  ribbbon  will  set  off  some  be-capped  and  wid- 
owed face  more  attractively  than  all  the  snow-flake 
haberdashery  that  could  be  devised — let  him  cherish 
all  the  quaintness  that  is  due  to  years,  and  seek  only 
to  magnify  and  illustrate  it  by  such  enlargements  as 
are  in  keeping  with  it,  and  by  such  sober  adornments 
as  shall  seem  to  be  rather  a  restoration  of  old  and  lost 
graces  than  the  ambitious  display  of  new  ones.  The 
thing  is  feasible.  It  only  wants  an  eye  to  perceive 
the  need,  and  a  courage  to  discard  the  flash  carpentry 
of  the  day. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     2  5  5 

I  beg  that  I  may  be  not  misunderstood.  I  by  no 
means  intend  to  say  that  the  country  houses  of  fifty 
years  ago  were  in  any  sense  equal  or  comparable,  on 
the  score  of  fitness  or  of  taste,  to  the  country  houses 
of  to-day ;  but  I  do  mean  to  say,  that  if  the  walls 
of  such  old  houses  are  plumb  and  true  and  sound,  and 
repairs  are  undertaken,  it  will  be  far  wiser,  and  call 
for  nicer  exercise  of  skill,  to  carry  forward  such 
repairs  with  the  quaint  flavor  of  the  old  homely  tastes 
upon  them — thus  working  out  artistic  agreement  and 
adornment  together — than  it  will  be  to  belittle  the 
old  by  a  shocking  contrast,  and  wantonly  dress  our 
grandame  in  the  furbelows  of  sixteen. 

Again,  let  me  lay  down  another  distinction. 
There  are  old  houses  which,  in  any  traditional  or 
artistic  sense,  are  not  old  houses.  They  are  mere 
square  boxes  of  lumber  or  stone,  without  noticeable 
feature  or  flavor.  Such,  if  posssible,  may  be  incor- 
porated into  any  new  design,  without  fear  or  favor  ; 
none  but  economic  considerations  will  stand  in  the 
way.  But  there  are  others  which,  without  being 
accordant  in  any  sense  with  the  artistic  designs  of 
the  present  day,  have  yet  a  character  of  their  own — 
a  character  which  any  architectural  adviser  (by  the 
qualities  of  his  profession)  is  bound  to  detect ;  and 
which  (by  the  niceties  of  his  profession)  he  cannot 
ignore  in  carrying  out  his  changes. 


256  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

I  know  of  nothing  which  an  architect  can  do 
better  (in  the  way  of  illustrating  his  real  artistic 
capacity)  than  to  take  hold  of  one  of  those  old,  almost 
uninhabitable  country  houses  of  forty  years  ago,  and, 
without  violating  its  homeliness,  graft  upon  it  such 
convenient  addenda  of  rooms,  porches,  halls  (gables, 
possibly)  as  shall  result  in  a  charming  homestead, 
in  which  the  old  is  forgotten  in  the  new,  and  the 
new  made  racy  by  a  certain  indefinable  smack  of  the 
old. 

For  all  such  renovation,  however,  as  I  have  hinted 
at,  stanch  walls  and  sound  timbers  are  essential  pre- 
requisites. If  otherwise — if  the  examining  carpenter 
can  thrust  his  scratch-awl  eight  inches  into  the  sills — 
if  the  posts  have  taken  gradual  settlement  and  the 
ceiling  shows  gaping  rents,  any  effective  remodelling 
must  be  of  doubtful  conomy.  Of  course  there  must 
be  a  substitution  of  new  sills,  and  a  splicing  of  the 
posts  which  will  make  even  wider  gaps  in  the  ceiling. 
Then  comes  the  pleasant  suggestion  of  the  mater 
familias  that  the  mantels  are  awkward  and  must  be 
replaced  by  something  new  and  tasteful.  The  adroit 
mason,  being  called  into  consultation,  decides  that  the 
chimneys  are  hardly  worth  the  change,  and  that  a 
renovation  from  top  to  bottom  would  give  a  large 
addition  of  closet  room.  So  the  old  chimneys  come 
down,  with  such  dirt  and  breakage  and  necessary 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     257 

removal  of  partition  walls  as  are  surprising.  The 
ceilings,  too,  must  needs  show  ugly  patches,  and  it 
would  be  wiser  (the  amiable  mason  suggests)  to  re- 
plaster  altogether.  There  must  be  new  hearths  too, 
and  in  place  of  an  awkward  patched  floor  perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  renew  the  flooring.  This  being 
undertaken,  it  is  found  that  the  sleepers  are  awry, 
and  to  make  square  work  the  carpenter  suggests  a 
replacement  of  the  flooring  timber.  This  being 
accomplished,  it  is  hinted  by  the  observant  mistress 
that  the  windows  are  hardly  in  keeping,  and  the 
order  is  given  for  new  frames  and  sashes.  The 
doors  must  needs  match  the  windows ;  and  next- 
there  is  a  sly  regret  that  the  plain  ceilings  should  not 
have  their  fretting  of  a  town  cornice :  and  so  the 
poor  old  house  is  gradually  dwarfed  with  a  great 
burden  of  pretentious  modernisms  that  it  can  carry 
with  no  grace.  Even  the  mater  familias  has  at  last 
her  disappointments,  and  says  quietly :  "  Sylvanus  (it 
is  of  Mr.  Urban  that  I  write),  I  think  'twould  have 
been  perhaps  better  to  build  a  new  house." 
Un  qu  estionably. 

Site  and  Material. 

BUT  if  new,  what  is  to  be  said  of  site,  of  material, 
of  style?     Not  absolutely  upon  a  hill-top,  I 
should  say,  unless  there  be  some  great  flanking  wood 


258  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

against  the  north,  or  such  planting  and  arrangement 
of  outbuildings  as  shall  presently  secure  shelter :  not 
upon  low  land  either — least  of  all  near  to  any  body 
of  fresh  water  which  from  artificial  causes  is  subject 
to  great  inequalities  of  level,  or  which  in  the  heats 
of  September  may  show  a  broad  margin  of  quagmire. 
Lakes  are  very  beautiful,  and  very  healthful  too,  as 
God  made  them ;  but  when  the  manufacturers  or  the 
water  companies  tap  them,  as  they  will  most  persist- 
ently in  the  seasons  of  least  ram,  all  their  charm  and 
glory  go  sounding  down  the  sluices. 

One  would  say  too  that  a  model  country  house  or 
an  enjoyable  one  should  be  placed  upon  such  lift  of 
ground  as  to  give  a  good  honest  out-look  over  mea- 
dow and  wood,  and  streaks  of  river  (if  such  can  be 
compassed).  The  near  sight  of  the  roofs  and  towers 
of  a  city,  too,  will  give  a  good  every-day  feeling  of 
companionship  with  the  world,  without  the  world's 
noises ;  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  a  spire  or  two 
lifting  above  trees  or  among  trees  will  breed  a 
healthful  religious  habit  in  a  man — shining  always  in 
his  eye — trim,  solid  sermons — not  smirched  with  the 
dust  of  groundling  conflicts,  and  (unlike  many  written 
sermons)  always  carrying  a  good  point  in  them. 
There  should  be  also  some  glimpse,  if  nothing  more, 
of  one  of  the  world's  great  highways  ;  a  near  railway 
is  indeed  terrific  with  its  din,  but  if  so  far  away 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     259 

that  its  roar  is  mellowed  by  distance,  the  arrowy 
flight  of  its  trains  gives  a  pleasant  bit  of  movmeut  to 
the  landscape.  Best  of  all,  for  picturesque  effect,  is 
the  feathery  trail  of  white  vapor  which  the  rattling 
monster  breathes  out  and  which  lies  floating  after 
him  like  a  line  of  mist  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
valley-crossing.  Such  objects  as  I  have  indicated  for- 
bid that  feeling  of  solitude  which  steals  upon  one 
immured  in  a  scene  of  absolute  retirement.  Trees 
are  never  less  than  trees  indeed,  and  mountains  are 
always  writ  over  with  grand  lines ;  but  after  all,  it 
is  a  weary  silence  that  only  birds  break  or  the  mono- 
tone of  frogs  or  the  locusts.  An  echo  from  without, 
whether  from  a  bell-tower  or  the  sweep  of  a  railway 
train,  is  a  sort  of  brazen  world's  voice  booming  in, 
that  by  contrast  makes  the  bird's  notes  sweeter,  and 
the  leafy  rustle  of  the  trees  more  beguiling. 

Of  the  material  of  which  a  country  house  should 
be  constructed  I  shall  say  some  things  which  are  not 
in  agreement  with  prevailing  opinions.  The  use  of 
wood  is  almost  universal ;  and  for  producing  a  certain 
largeness  of  effect  under  limitations  of  cost,  it  is  by 
odds  the  most  economical.  The  necessary  conditions 
too  of  warmth  and  dryness  may  be  easily  secured  by 
a  builder  in  wood ;  and  under  these  circumstances, 
where  fitness  and  economy  seem  combined,  it  is 
hardly  reasonable  to  hope  for  the  substitution  of  any 


260  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

other  material  than  wood.  Yet  I  venture  to  suggest, 
(and  shall  urge  as  I  best  can,)  that  in  a  country  where 
stones  abound,  and  they  abound  in  most  of  the 
Eastern  States,  they  furnish  the  most  fit  material, 
and  their  use  will  subserve  a  higher  if  not  a  more 
immediate  economy. 

Let  me  test,  one  by  one,  the  objections  which  are 
commonly  urged  against  buildings  for  home  purposes, 
of  stone. 

First,  on  the  score  of  appearance :  There  are 
those  who  object  to  the  rough  and  unbecoming  par- 
ticolored surface  of  a  house  of  stone — who  believe 
that  a  "  handsome  house  "  (a  most  destestable  collo- 
cation of  words)  must  have  smooth  exteriors,  and 
submit  to  the  finical  niceties  of  the  painters.  This, 
indeed,  is  a  question  of  taste,  in  which  all  ordinary 
reasoning  is  adrift.  It  certainly  seems  to  me  that 
the  real  beauty  of  a  country  house  depends  not  so 
much  upon  nice  finish  of  surface  as  upon  outline,  and 
the  agreement  of  its  general  tone  of  color  with  the 
surrounding  landscape.  No  tint,  surely,  can  be  more 
agreeable  than  that  of  our  sand-stones,  and  the  yellow 
ochreous  stain  which  belongs  to  the  old  cleavage  of 
the  trap-rock  is  as  rich  as  that  of  the  quarries  of 
Caen.  Then  there  is  the  lichened  surface  of  a  world 
of  scattered  boulders — their  fresh  bright  cleavage 
with  its  spangles  of  mica,  or  the  homely  brown 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     26 1 

weather  stains  of  myriads  of  dispersed  fragments. 
And  even  if  agreement  of  tint  be  wanting,  it  is  quite 
feasible  to  build  of  wholly  refuse  stones  in  such  way 
as  to  admit  of  a  ;;  rough-cast "  covering  of  mortar, 
which  by  the  simple  appliance  of  lime-wash  and 
some  cheap  pigment,  may  be  toned  to  any  color 
desired :  or,  by  selection  of  stones  for  the  quoins  and 
window  jambs,  these  might  show  their  natural  sur- 
faces, while  the  intervals  were  "  rough-cast."  A  kin- 
dred though  more  decided  contrast  of  color  might  be 
secured  by  quoins  and  window  trimmings  of  brick, 
while  the  general  surface  (sunk  two  or  three  inches) 
might  be  treated  as  already  suggested.  By  these 
devices  the  rudest  stones  might  be  worked  into  a 
solid  home. 

Another  method,  in  which  comparatively  worth- 
less material  may  be  utilized  in  the  construction  of 
a  house,  which  would  have  all  the  warmth  and  nearly 
all  the  durability  of  a  building  wholly  of  stone,  is  to 
blend  the  timber  and  mason-work  together — framing 
as  usual,  though  with  a  nice  regard  to  joints  and 
effective  panelling,  and  after  this,  building  in  with 
coarse  rubble,  to  be  rough-cast  on  completion,  leaving 
the  timbers  exposed.  This  is  the  old  Saxon  country 
house,  of  which  many  examples  are  to  be  found  in 
the  cathedral  cities  of  England,  and  of  which  the 
Shakespeare  house  is  a  notable  but  very  humble  type. 


262  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

Instances  of  this  mode  of  construction  are  not 
common  in  this  country — scarcely  known  indeed  at 
the  North ;  but  quaint  specimens  are  to  be  seen  in 
Louisiana  and  in  Florida.  By  the  favor  of  a  friend, 
I  introduce  a  little  sketch  of  a  very  modest  building 
of  this  sort  in  the  neighborhood  of  New  Orleans. 


I  am  sure  that  something  larger  might  be  done  in 
this  way,  which  would  have  a  very  racy  quaintness  ; 
and  which,  with  its  timber  balcony  and  jutting 
rooflets  and  ample  porches  might  offer  a  very  invit- 
ing show.  Brick  may  also  be  used  effectively  for  the 
filling  in  of  such  exposed  carpentry  of  the  frame  ;  and 
if  the  timber  be  given  a  dark  chocolate  tint,  the  con- 
trast is  very  striking  and  pleasing.  I  give  a  sketch  of 
such  a  house,  the  roof  covered  with  shingles,  or  (bet- 
ter still)  red  tiles  ;  and  the  basement  of  quarry  chips. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     263 


^Slfe^Q:  <  -tV  -"vy- 
«*«*••£    tf 


Aside  from  those  who  object  to  the  appearance  of  a 
gtone  house,   there  are  many  who  entertain  the  very 


264  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

current  prejudice  that  such  "buildings  must  needs  be 
damp.  If  damp,  the  dampness  must  be  due  to  faulty 
construction.  Nothing  more  is  needed  to  secure  dry- 
ness  than  to  "  fur  off"  widely  from  the  stone,  and 
to  allow  a  free  circulation  of  air  between  the  interior 
and  exterior  walls.  In  this  way  not  only  is  dryness 
secured,  but  a  degree  of  warmth  in  winter,  and  of 
coolness  in  summer,  which  no  wooden  walls  can 
maintain.  In  this  connection  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  note  the  fact,  that  the  larger  part  of  the  civilized 
portion  of  the  world  have  been  living  in  stone  houses 
for  the  last  few  centuries,  and  they  have  weathered 
the  damps  pretty  courageously. 

But  the  objection  to  country  houses  of  stone  ia 
not  so  much  on  the  score  of  appearance  or  of 
imagined  dampness,  as  of  cost.  The  great  durability 
is  hardly  taken  into  our  American  estimates.  There 
are  rural  householders  who  look  forward  twenty 
years — some  who  look  forward  fifty  years  ;  but  those 
who  look  forward  a  century  and  build  for  the  genera- 
tions to  come,  may  be  counted  on  one's  fingers. 
What  builder  of  our  day  reckons  upon  the  wants  or 
comforts  of  his  grand-child  ?  What  boy  counts  upon 
living  in  his  father's  house  ?  There  are  exceptions, 
doubtless,  but  the  rule  is,  dispersion — sale — aliena- 
tion ;  and  not  one  man  in  a  thousand  is  shaded  by 
the  oaks  that  gave  shelter  to  his  grandsire.  If  I 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     265 

build  a  house  which  is  in  sound  and  saleable  condi- 
tion forty  or  fifty  years  hence,  what  more  is  needed  r 

But  even  under  this  short-sighted  view,  is  the  house 
of  wood  more  economical  than  the  house  of  stone  ? 
If,  as  I  have  hinted,  the  projector  aims  at  a  finical 
nicety  of  exterior  surface,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  economy  is  largely  in  favor  of  the  use  of  wood  ; 
but  if  a  man  will  have  the  courage  to  violate  conven- 
tional tastes  in  this  respect,  and  be  content,  nay,  be 
boastful  of  a  rural  residence — if  it  offer  only  agreea- 
ble outline  and  afford  ample  security  for  all  comfort 
and  elegance  within,  there  is  a  large  doubt  if  stone, 
if  readily  accessible,  be  not  the  more  economic 
material.  A  large  allowance  in  its  favor  is  to  be 
made  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  painters'  bills  must 
needs  be  modest,  and  that  repairs  for  an  indefinite 
series  of  years  will  be  almost  infinitesimal.  And  yet 
whatever  may  be  a  man's  plottings  in  favor  of  rude 
material,  and  a  resolute  indifference  to  other  beauty 
of  exterior  than  the  natural  faces  of  the  scattered 
boulders  in  his  fields,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  city 
masons,  if  consulted,  will  swell  their  estimates  to  the 
same  aggregate  that  belongs  to  the  nice  finish  of  the 
town  houses.  Every  experiment,  even  in  the  direc- 
tion of  economy,  is  taxed  somewhat  by  reason  of  its 
quality  of  experiment. 

To  avoid  this  tax  it  would  be  well  to  seek  out 
12 


266  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

some  trusty  and  sagacious  foreman  who  could  be 
brought  to  entertain  some  pride  in  the  issue  of  the 
proposed  scheme  and  allow  him  to  select  the  laborers 
through  whom  it  should  be  carried  into  execution 
on  "  day's  wages."  Good  country  wall-layers,  who 
have  only  a  little  deftness  in  the  use  of  the  trowel, 
would  be  capital  co-workers  ;  and  at  all  hazards,  that 
riffraff  of  lazy  fellows  should  be  discarded  who  de- 
light in  hammering  out  ten  listless  hours  in  deface- 
ment of  the  beautiful  natural  cleavage  of  our  rocks. 

Another  matter  worthy  of  full  consideration  is 
the  fact  that  the  cost  of  a  stone  house  increases 
rapidly  with  its  height ;  the  first  twelve  feet,  may  be 
easily  manageable,  but  the  next  twelve  involve  por- 
tentous array  of  scaffolding,  and  the  lifting  of  large 
masses  of  material:  economy  would  thus  seem  to 
dictate,  where  stone  is  employed,  low  walls  and  a 
large  area.  Would  our  country  houses  lose  in  pic- 
turesqueness  or  in  comfort  by  such  a  readjustment  of 
proportions  ? 

Form  and  Color. 

THIS  leads  me  to  speak  of  form.    The  man  who 
goes  up  two  flights  of  stairs  every  night  in  the 
country  to  his  bed,  does  a  very  preposterous  thing. 
If  not  two,  why  go  up  one  ?     A  large  compensa- 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     267 

tion  of  country  life  lies  in  the  possession  of  space :  no 
brick  wall  flanks  your  rear ;  no  neighbor's  area  lies 
under  your  dining-room  windows ;  ample  stretch  of 
ground  for  all  architectural  fancies  surrounds  and  in- 
vites you.  Why  not  improve  it  ?  Does  character 
lie  in  tallness  ?  The  old  Romans — those  luxurious 
comfort-seekers — understood  the  charm  that  lay  in  a 
cubiculum,  if  not  a  dormitorium  on  the  first  floor ;  and 
with  a  door  half  open  (such  doors  as  they  had)  they 
might  go  to  sleep,  lulled  by  the  tinkle  of  a  fountain 
in  the  hall.  I  don't  think  any  of  Pliny's  villas  were 
as  high  as  those  of  a  great  many  (in  sight  from  my 
door)  who  don't  know  whether  he  was  Greek  or 
Chinaman. 

Of  course  we  don't  want,  in  this  age  of  the  worldj 
to  take  oar  building  fancies  from  the  dead  men  of 
Pompeii  or  of  Tusculum ;  and  I  have  only  interpo- 
lated this  allusion  to  show  that  a  man's  dignity  is  not 
necessarily  measured  by  the  height  of  the  house  he 
lives  in.  All  the  strong,  robber  classes  of  the  world, 
whenever  they  have  lived  in  houses,  have,  I  think, 
inclined  to  tall  ones.  Such  were  those  German 
barons  who  perched  their  eyries  along  the  Rhine, 
and  the  thievish  borderers  by  the  Tweed  who  have 
left  us  such  precious  specimens  as  "  Johnny  Arm- 
strong's Tower."  On  the  other  hand,  the  domesticity 
of  the  old  Saxons  expressed  itself  in  low,  wide- 


268  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

spreading  buildings,  typical  of  a  quiet  life,  and  of  a 
country  abundance  that  came  by  peaceful  labor. 

There  are  robber  classes  in  our  day,  and  they  live 
(many  of  them)  in  tall  houses ;  so  do  a  great  many 
honest  people,  for  that  matter.  In  fact  a  great  fault 
of  our  country  architecture  lies  in  its  being  too  am- 
bitious :  it  has  indeed  come  out  from  that  old  hid- 
eous conventionalism  of  two  stories,  white  clap-boards 
and  green  blinds ;  but  it  still  seeks  to  startle  with 
something  grand — something  that  shall  tell  a  noisy 
brazen  story  at  the  first  glance.  Yet  a  fit  house 
and  home — fit  for  its  belongings — fit  in  size,  in  color, 
in  outline  (like  a  man  of  wholly  fit  character) — should 
win  upon  you  by  degrees,  charming  you  at  each  suc- 
ceeding look  by  some"  rare  and  modest  beauties, 
which  are  the  more  attractive  because  found  only 
after  intelligent  search.  A  great,  gaunt,  cumbrous 
exterior  tells  all  its  story  at  a  glance  :  you  may  study 
it  curiously  in  search  of  details,  but  there  is  no  hearty 
interest  in  the  study.  But  a  humbler  line  of  roof,  so 
humble  that  we  catch  sight  bit  by  bit  of  its  peeping 
gables,  its  jutting  porches,  its  low  flanking  line  of 
offices — half  hid  by  shrubbery  and  half  warmed  by  a 
blaze  of  sunlight — this,  somehow,  by  a  certain  relishy 
smack  of  domesticity  belonging  to  its  vague  indis- 
tinguishable outline  and  scattered  chimney-stacks, 
piques  all  the  home-feeling  in  a  man. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     269 

A  great  house,  whose  picture  we  have  seen  in  the 
architectural  books,  we  know ;  and  we  admire  it 
coldly,  if  we  admire  it  at  all.  But  a  lesser  one — less 


beautiful,  possibly,  judged  by  the  conventional  laws  of 
the  art  * — whose  quaint  assemblage  of  modest  peaks 
and  outlying  offices  seems  to  shadow  forth  the  indi- 

*  Since  the  first  publication  of  this  book,  old  conventional- 
isms in  all  that  relates  to  country  houses  have  been  largely 
upset.  There  is  now  to  be  seen  a  variety  and  a  freedom  of 
treatment  which  would  have  astonished  and  bewildered  the 
builders  of  twenty  years  ago :  it  is  not  too  late,  however,  to 
speak  an  approving  word  for  those  modest  exteriors,  which 
win  by  reason  of  their  modesties. 


270  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

viduality  of  the  occupant,  and  is  invested  with  a 
homely  yet  cheery  quietude — this  we  admire  with  a 
livelier  interest. 

If,  however,  economy  in  the  use  of  stone  for  do- 
mestic purposes  demands  comparatively  low  walls,  it 
need  not  cheat  us  wholly  of  our  chambers.  A  French 
roof,  with  great  perpendicularity  to  its  first  pitch, 
will  give  airy  height  for  upper  rooms  and  ample 
ventilating  space  above ;  and  such  a  roof,  slated  in 
diamond  pattern,  will  contrast  admirably  with  the 
natural  surfaces  of  the  boulders  below,  and  the 
irregular  lines  of  mortar. 

Again,  I  do  not  know  anything  in  the  laws  of 
taste,  apart  from  conventionalisms,  to  which  we  all 
yield  so  implicitly,  which  would  forbid  the  placing 
of  an  upper  story  of  wooden  construction  upon  a 
ground-story  of  stone.  The  idea  may  be  shocking  at 
first,  but  I  ask  the  reader  to  fancy  for  a  moment  an 
irregular  mass  of  honest  stone  building  of  the  height 
and  simplicity  I  have  suggested,  pierced  with  win- 
dows of  irregular  proportions  (just  where  needed 
for  the  best  light).  Next  imagine  a  wooden  structure 
of  a  story  in  height,  with  simple  sharp  pent  roof, 
relieved  by  a  gable  half  down  its  length,  placed  upon 
the  stone — overhanging  it  if  you  please  by  a  foot  in 
width  and  length,  with  its  floor  timbers  rounded  into 
the  shape  of  supporting  corbels ;  then  imagine  here 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     271 

and  there  a  half-dozen  of  these  floor-beams  projecting 
four  feet  or  more,  so  as  to  form  a  dainty  balcony  at 


gj^tfTP ' I ^WS W  i^^c     -' 


r^n^i^^'-''-^ 


Borne    upper  window,   supported  by  simple  timbei 
braces   carried   down   into   the  stone-work ;    others 


272  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

may  project  still  further,  to  carry  the  peaked  rooflet 
of  a  porch,  whose  supporting  posts  shall  reach  the 
ground ;  the  wooden  covering  may  be  of  sheathing 
arranged  vertically,  tinted  brown  to  harmonize  with 
the  stone,  and  the  battens  of  whitish  gray  to  har- 
monize with  the  mortar  lines  below.  The  profes- 
sional men  might  call  this  very  inelegant ;  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  strict  artistic  elegance  is  the  best  quality 
for  a  home  in  the  country.  The  best  qualities  in  it 
will  be  those  that  call  out  most  promptly  a  man's 
sense  of  domesticity — that  suggest  easy  comfort, 
ample  room,  odd  loitering  nooks,  indefinite  play  of 
fire-light  and  lamp-light,  wide  and  unpretentious  hos- 
pitality. Above  all  things  a  country  house,  to  have 
its  best  charm,  must  look  livable.  I  use  an  excep- 
tionable word,  but  I  think  readers  will  catch  my 
meaning.  The  mere  suggestion — such  as  tightly- 
closed  shutters  will  give — of  rooms  kept  for  show, 
barred  for  weeks  and  months  against  light  and  air, 
will  ruin  its  charm.  Its  walls,  windows,  roof,  chim- 
neys, must  beam  with  cheeriness.  Its  porch  must 
nod  a  welcome.  A  terrier  frisking  through  a  half- 
opened  door,  a  cat  dozing  on  a  balcony,  a  dove 
swooping  round  the  gable,  will  lend  more  charms  by 
odds  than  carefully  swept  gravel  and  a  statue  of 
Diana  on  the  lawn.  There  must  be  no  stiff  pairing 
of  circle  against  circle,  or  of  hanging  basket  against 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     273 

hanging  basket — above  all,  no  such  execrahle  torn 
foolery  as  iron  dogs  or  wooden  puppets.  A  Greciai 
temple  for  a  coal  shed,  or  a  small  Strasburg  minster 
for  a  dog-house,  will  help  largely  to  make  a  country 
house  absurd.  Nay,  an  excess  of  nicety  upon  the 
walks,  as  if  the  spade  and  roller  of  the  gardener  left 
it  only  yesterday  and  would  be  there  again  next 
morning,  takes  off  the  edge  of  a  true  home  relish  J 
even  flowers  themselves,  if  piled  up  in  very  trim 
and  very  orderly  masses,  as  in  the  show-rows  of  a 
florist,  will  lose  half  their  power  to  lend  grace  ;  still 
worse  if  they  are  perched  in  spldierly  array  along  the 
porch  or  veranda,  renewed  so  soon  as  their  bloom 
fades,  like  children  never  allowed  to  appear  even  in 
party  dress  save  under  promise  of  keeping  still. 
Who,  pray,  can  take  comfort  in  lounging  upon  a 
porch,  where  a  careless  step  may  break  off  some 
floweret  of  a  rare  cactus,  or  enjoy  a  bit  of  greens- 
ward where  he  fears  to  knock  off  the  ashes  of  his 
cigar?  Who  wants  to  be  petrified  in  a  country 
house,  either  his  own  or  another's?  I  have  seen 
them  before  now  so  terribly  fine,  so  prudishly  neat, 
so  martinet-like  in  order,  that  it  seemed  to  me  the 
very  gardeners  should  be  wearing  leathern  stocks 
and  pipe-clay :  a  week  of  such  atmosphere  would 
drive  me  mad. 

Perhaps  I  am  peculiar  in  these  notions  about  the 
12* 


274  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

real  homishness  of  a  country  place.  I  know  there 
are  very  good  and  Christian  people  who  never  allow 
a  dog  about  their  premises,  or  a  duck,  or  a  dove,  or 
a  stray  dandelion  upon  their  lawn,  and  who  buy 
statuary  and  rustic  iron  work  (always  in  pairs)  for 
their  grounds,  and  who  keep  the  front  blinds  closed, 
and  who  manage  to  give  to  their  sunniest  porch  the 
look  of  a  church  door  upon  week-days ;  but  why 
such  people  should  come  into  the  country  or  live  in 
the  country  I  could  never  understand.  It  puzzles  me 
prodigiously. 

I  like  hugely  that  good  old  English  word — home- 
liness. It  ought  to  have  again  its  first  meaning. 
Pretty-faced  women  have  corrupted  it.  It  describes 
all  that  is  best  about  a  country  house.  I  have  ad- 
vocated the  use  of  homely  material  and  of  homely 
methods,  believing  these  are  best  fitted,  judiciously 
used,  to  lend  real  homeliness  to  a  house  in  the 
country. 

Mr.   TTrbarfs  Purchase. 

MR.  URBAN  has  at  last  positively  succeeded  in 
making  purchase  of  his  farm  of  fifty  acres,  or 
thereabout.  It  has  its  undulations,  its  scattered  woods, 
its  obtruding  cliff — in  short,  a  sufliciently  varied  sur- 
face to  admit  of  a  certain    picturesque  treatment, 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     275 

w.thout  great  interference  with  economic  results. 
For  Mr.  Urban  is  bent  upon  having  his  corn- 
patch — however  much  it  may  cost  him ;  and  bent 
upon  having  his  trim  lines  of  carrots,  his  mercers, 
his  half  dozen  or  more  of  fine  cattle,  and  his  pastur- 
age, where  he  may  watch  his  Alderneys  at  their 
quiet  grazing,  or  their  noontide  siesta  under  the 
trees. 

I  give,  on  the  next  page,  a  drawing  of  his  farm  as 
it  appeared  at  the  time  of  his  taking  possession. 

The  house,  A,  is  reasonably  sound,  and  well  situ- 
ated, but  small.  It  will  admit  of  temporary  repairs  and 
additions,  which  he  determines  upon  forthwith.  The 
barn,  _Z?,  is  wholly  unfit  for  his  plans,  being  small,  ill- 
placed,  and  shaky  in  its  joints.  He  consults  me  in 
regard  to  the  position  for  a  new  one,  and  I  advise 
him  to  place  it  in  the  edge  of  the  mossy  old  orchard 
(whose  trees  are  nearly  worthless),  where  a  little  rise 
of  ground  will  admit  of  a  cellar  underneath  both 
barn  and  carriage-house.  I  suggest  also  in  connec- 
tion with  it  a  cow-stable  which  shall  extend  west- 
ward in  order  to  furnish  a  protecting  lee  to  his  cattle- 
yard,  and  to  connect  immediately  with  the  fields  in 
the  rear. 

The  fences  are  terrible  in  number,  but  are  for- 
tunately nearly  all  of  rails,  and  can  therefore  be 
placed  out  of  consideration  in  the  new  laying  out  of 


276 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


the  farm.      An  exception  is  to  be  noted  in  regard 
to  the  line  of  enclosure  marked  0  upon  the  diagram, 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     277 

which — as  well  as  the  fences  along  either  side  of  the 
high-road — are  of  old  mossy  boulders,  too  cumbrous 
to  be  removed  without  great  cost.  Mistress  Urban 
is  in  despair  at  this,  as  she  thinks  that  the  partic- 
ular fence  designated  will  prevent  any  breadth  to 
her  lawn.  In  the  interests  of  economy,  however,  I 
venture  to  advise  that  it  be  left  in  its  present  posi- 
tion— that  it  be  righted  where  it  shows  any  bulging 
propensities,  and  promise  that  in  two  or  three  years 
at  most  the  greater  part  of  it  shall  be  scn*ened  by 
irregular  groups  of  shrubbery,  and  that  where  its 
line  is  discernible,  it  shall  be  mantled  with  such  a 
tangled  wealth  of  Virginia  creepers  and  ivy  (the 
exposure  being  north)  as  shall  make  it  worthy  its 
place,  and  divide  admiration  with  the  half  dozen  of 
mouse-colored  Alderneys  feeding  beyond. 

The  garden  is  out  of  position,  besides  being  upon 
a  soil  ill  suited  to  it.  Mr.  Urban  is  moreover  urgent 
for  a  "  great  garden ;  "  he  wishes  to  prepare  one  in 
the  best  manner,  and  means  that  his  standard  pears 
and  dwarf  fruits  and  grapevines  shall  come  in  for  a 
share  of  the  benefit. 

I  establish  it  upon  the  level  plateau  of  land  to  the 
southward  of  his  cattle-yard,  giving  it  the  advantage 
of  shelter  from  the  stables,  the  cold  grapery,  the 
compost-shed,  the  hot-house  and  the  hennery — as 
will  appear  by  consulting  the  second  drawing  of 


278 


OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 


Mr.  Urban's  fifty  acres,  after  the  improvements  are 
matured. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     279 

The  cold  grapery  is  marked  F ' ;  the  hot-house,  E^ 
whose  fire,  by  proper  adjustment  of  one  of  its  flues, 
gives  warmth  to  the  poultry-house,  which  (marked 
Z>)  is  immediately  adjoining.  A  sheltered  spot  for 
hot-bed  and  compost-heap  is  provided  in  a  position 
convenient  to  the  manure  deposits  of  the  cattle-yard. 
A  broad  walk,  at  least  eight  feet  in  width,  traverses 
the  garden,  and  divides  near  the  southern  border,  to 
give  place  to  a  picturesque  coppice  of  trees  and 
shrubs,  whose  interior  border  is  planted  with  hardy 
and  showy  herbaceous  flowers;  these  again  are 
hemmed  in  every  summer-time  by  a  narrower  and 
exterior  border  of  the  gayest  of  "  bedding  "  plants. 
Behind,  and  to  the  southward  of  the  garden  paling 
or  hedge  is  a  green  lane,  serving  to  connect  the  pas- 
ture-land by  the  high-road,  with  the  cultivated  lands 
to  the  westward,  and  with  the  stable  court.  This 
connection  may  be  established,  while  the  west  lands 
are  under  tillage,  by  means  of  a  hurdle  fence,  which, 
shall  extend  the  lane  along  the  west  border  of  the 
garden. 

The  fields  marked  M and  R  are,  as  expressed  upon 
the  diagram,  either  in  tillage  or  in  meadow  ;  and  the 
multitude  of  fences  has  been  done  away  with.  The 
southernmost  of  these  two  fields  is  laid  bare  for 
thorough  tillage  of  any  character,  and  its  neighbor 
to  the  north  has  only  a  protecting  belt  of  wood. 


280  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

The  enclosure  -fi^  having  a  ledge  and  an  old  group 
of  forest  trees  in  its  northwestern  angle  (offering 
admirable  shelter),  may  have  its  picturesquely  dis- 
posed orcharding,  or  may  be  planted  with  ornamental 
trees,  as  the  proprietor  may  fancy.  In  either  case, 
with  a  few  protective  hurdles,  it  may  be  cropped  by 
a  score  of  Southdowns  ;  but  it  must  be  fairly  under- 
stood that  no  orcharding  will  do  its  best  or  even  its 
second  best,  except  it  be  kept  under  thorough  culti- 
vation, and  no  grass  permitted  within  reach  of  its 
most  divergent  rootlets. 

The  walks  and  entrance  drive  explain  themselves. 
The  dotted  line  H  T,  indicates  a  view  of  a  distant 
village  spire,  which  upon  the  first  diagram,  as  will  be 
seen,  was  entirely  cut  off  by  two  or  three  intruding 
trees ;  and  even  when  these  were  removed,  the  view 
was  sadly  interfered  with  by  the  mossy  wall  already 
spoken  of.  To  obviate  this  difficulty  I  suggested  a 
gap  in  the  wall  thereabout,  and  the  establishment 
of  a  broad  rustic  gate  under  whose  rude  arch  the 
distant  spire  would  come  into  sight  as  through  a 
frame-work.  A  rough  sketch  will  give  a  hint  of  the 
vista. 

No  pencilling,  however,  will  represent  that  soft 
suffusion  of  smoky  color  which  enwraps  the  little 
epire  and  house-roofs,  as  they  come  to  the  eye  through 
the  gap  in  the  sharp  dark  green  of  the  foreground. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     28 1 

The  view  to  the  northeast  (in  the  direction  of  the 
dotted  line  J"),  at  the  time  of  taking  possession,  looked 
over  a  foul  marsh  lying  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the 
high-road ;  this  marsh  received  the  drainage  of  all 


the  elevated  ground  to  the  north  and  west,  and  its 
excess  of  water  leaked  away  by  an  indecisive  and 
intermittent  flow  through  the  pasture  land  marked 
P.  Under  the  old  regime — as  will  be  seen  by  recur- 
rence to  the  drawing  of  the  farm  at  time  of  purchase 
— this  pasture  served  as  "  meadow,"  and  produced 
its  annual  quota  of  bog  hay.  Beyond  the  marsh  and 
the  highlands  which  skirted  it  to  the  northeast,  was 
an  extremely  pretty  view  of  a  range  of  low  moun- 
tains, some  two  miles  distant,  in  the  lee  of  which  were 
to  be  seen  a  spire  and  one  or  two  tall  chimneys. 
But  the  unkempt,  slatternly  marsh-land  in  the  fore- 
ground ruined  the  scene.  It  might  be  planted  out 
indeed ;  but  an  effective  planting  out  would  interfere 


282  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

somewhat  with  some  of  the  most  picturesque  objects 
in  the  distance.  I  advised  a  slight  excavation  of  a 
portion  of  the  marsh  so  as  to  show  a  little  lakelet, 
over  whose  farther  arm  a  rustic  bridge  might  be 
thrown — the  bridge  serving  as  a  portion  of  the  bar- 
rier between  the  area  of  plaisance  ground  around  the 
pond  and  the  pasture  beyond.  By  this  device  and 
adroit  disposition  of  shrubbery,  the  whole  area  south 
of  the  high-road  would  appear  from  the  windows  of 
the  mansion  to  constitute  but  one  enclosure,  within 
which  the  pet  Alderneys  might  be  seen  cropping  the 
herbage,  or  cooling  themselves  in  the  pool  beyond 
the  bridge. 

Of  course  such  disposition  of  the  matter  (which 
I  have  tried  to  illustrate  in  the  drawing)  commended 


itself  most  warmly  to  Mrs.  Urban  and  to  the  Misses 

Urbans.     Nor  did  the  paterfamilias  greatly   object. 

To  add  still  more  to  the  picturesqueness  of  this 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     283 

view  across  the  road,  I  proposed  the  introduction  of 
the  gardener's  cottage  upon  the  wayside,  in  such  man- 
ner that  its  quaint  gable  should  peep  from  the  trees 
upon  the  right  of  the  scene,  and  a  well-trimmed  hedge 
of  hemlock  shut  out  all  sight  of  the  road-way.  The 
diagram  already  given  will  show  the  position  of  the 
water,  the  walks,  the  gardener's  cottage,  and  the 
gardener's  patch  of  vegetables — this  latter  being 
quite  out  of  sight  from  the  high  grounds  by  the  man- 
sion. 

It  is  quite  essential  to  the  effectiveness  of  this 
design  for  the  lay-out  of  the  grounds  that  the  public 
road  be  kept  in  neat  and  trim  condition — so  neat  and 
so  trim  that  the  visitor  approaching  it  from  the  south 
(the  direction  of  the  nearest  railway  station),  shall, 
when  he  arrives  opposite  the  gardener's  cottage 
(whose  porch  must  jut  upon  the  highway),  involun- 
tarily reckon  it  a  gate-lodge  of  some  private  domain 
into  which  he  just  there  enters.  For  the  fuller 
establishment  of  this  pleasant  deceit,  the  real  entrance 
gates  should  be  of  the  simplest  and  most  unpretend- 
ing character — as  if  they  were  but  portions  of  some 
interior  enclosures.  Whatever  grass  or  shrubs  may 
grow  within  the  public  road  after  passing  the  gar- 
dener's cottage  should  be  as  zealously  cared  for  and 
as  trimly  kept  as  if  they  were  within  the  enclosing 
wall.  One  may  be  assured  that  the  neighboring 


284  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

public  will  never  resent  such  careful  keeping  of  the 
high-road,  and  they  may  be  brought  by  it,  in  time 
to  practise  some  such  picturesque  devices  on  their 
own  account. 

Another  hint  I  think  it  necessary  to  drop  here. 
The  lay-out  of  a  place  upon  paper  it  is  easy  to  make 
very  engaging  and  tasteful ;  there  is  indeed  no  limit 
to  the  graces  of  curve,  which  may  be  laid  down  by 
an  adroit  draftsman  upon  a  fair  sheet  of  Bristol 
board.  But  it  is  a  very  different  matter  to  establish 
the  same  graces  upon  the  land  itself.  Unlimited 
expenditure  may  indeed  make  any  surface  conform 
itself  to  the  curvatures  and  devices  of  a  drawing. 
But  the  art  of  arts  in  landscape  gardening  is  to  make 
outlay  illustrate  the  beauties  of  the  land,  and  not  to 
cramp  and  deplete  the  land  to  illustrate  the  charms  of 
the  drawing. 

Particular  curves  or  undulations  of  surface,  which 
may  have  a  most  attractive  look  in  a  finished  land- 
scape, may  lack  very  many  of  the  esentials  of  grace 
if  transferred  to  paper,  after  the  ordinary  manner  of 
topographical  drawing.  If  we  looked  at  landscape 
effects  always  from  a  balloon — if  the  hills  were  all 
fore-shortened,  and  the  curves  of  walks  or  drives  all 
determinable  at  a  glance,  a  ground  map  would  be  a 
very  fair  guide  by  which  to  determine  artistic  effects. 
But  the  truth  is  that  in  nature  the  hills  have  their 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     285 

perspective ;  the  scattered  trees  or  coppices  are  not 
mere  woolly  blotches,  but  slant  their  shadows  upon 
the  surface  and  toss  their  tops  into  the  sky-line ; 
curves  are  not  cognizable  in  their  length,  or  ease, 
or  abruptnesses  at  a  glance — we  steal  upon  them  by 
degrees ;  they  please  by  their  easy  cheatery — by 
their  unexpected  sequence — by  such  abrupt  diver- 
sions, even,  as  have  palpable  cause  in  inequality  of 
surface  or  obtruding  rock  or  cliff.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible, indeed — nay,  it  is  altogether  probable  that  the 
curves  and  devices  which  are  most  charmingly  effect- 
ive in  the  work  itself,  may  have  a  stiffness  and  an 
impertinence  upon  the  map  which  will  thoroughly 
disappoint. 

As  cases  in  point,  I  remember  once  looking  down 
with  exceeding  interest  from  the  height  of  some 
Italian  town  (I  think  in  Bologna)  upon  what  seemed 
a  charming  garden ;  its  curves  were  full  of  grace ; 
its  little  coppices  were  admirably  adjusted ;  its  flow 
of  walks  as  happy  as  a  dream  ;  but  when  I  found  my 
way  to  it  afterward,  by  a  bribe  to  its  custodian,  and 
met  it  upon  tame  level — the  bird's-eye  view  being 
gone — it  seemed  the  baldest  of  dreary  pattern-work 
in  turf — with  no  significance  in  its  curves,  and  no 
keeping  in  its  lines. 

Again,  there  was  a  day  when  I  went  wandering 
in  sun  and  shadow  through  the  masses  of  a  Scotch 


286  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

garden,  not  far  from  Hawthornden,  with  cliff  and 
brook  and  water  and  bridge  and  tangles  of  wild- 
wood — all  so  caught  by  the  landscape  designer  and 
so  strung  along  the  foot-ways  he  had  planted,  that 
delight  was  unceasing;  and  when  I  asked  for  a 
sketch  of  its  meandering  over  that  broken  surface,  it 
presented  such  an  array  of  tame  lines,  and  meaning- 
less curvatures  and  violent  crooks  as  to  express 
nothing  of  the  grace  which  on  the  grounds  themselves 
flowed  over,  and  made  constant  enchantment. 


A  Sunny  House. 

~T"TT~E  will  suppose  that  Mr.  Urban  is  thoroughly 
»  *  satisfied  with  his  garden  and  grounds — that 
he  finds  his  newly  planted  trees  growing  apace — that 
his  Southdowns  are  all  that  an  accomplished  grazier 
could  desire ;  but  the  old  house  becomes  at  last  a 
weariness.  Not  because  it  is  old ;  nor  yet  because  it 
is  comparatively  small — so  small  that  he  has  to  billet, 
from  time  to  time,  a  bachelor  visitor  in  a  little  loft 
of  his  tool-house ;  but  it  has  no  wide  and  open  front- 
age to  the  sun.  He  insists  that  the  new  one,  of 
which  he  projects  the  building  out  of  the  rough 
material  from  his  cliff,  shall  have  at  least  a  glimpse 
of  southern  sunshine  in  every  habitable  room  below. 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  COUNTRY  HOUSE.     287 

"  I  am  tired  of  the  gloom  of  north  exposures,"  he 
writes  ;  "  wood-fires  are  very  well,  but  the  blaze  of 
them  is  not  equal  to  the  blaze  of  sunshine.  Do  what 
you  will  with  the  north  side,  but  the  parlor  must  look 
to  the  south,  and  the  library  (of  course)  and  the  din- 
ing-room, and — without  going  up-stairs — there  must, 
if  possible,  be  a  billiard- room  and  a  bed-room,  looking 
the  same  sunny  way.  In  brief,  my  notion  is,  to  have 
a  house  with  plenty  of  room,  and  no  north  side  to  it. 
Can  the  problem  be  solved  ? 

"  I  don't  care  for  shape,  if  it  be  only  picturesque, 
and  meet  the  wants  I  have  named  above.  A  con- 
siderable slope  of  the  land  toward  the  west  upon  the 
locality  I  have  chosen,  (keeping  all  the  old  charming 
views  in  leash)  will  admit  of  an  airy  basement  at  the 
western  end,  and  full  windows  (two  of  them)  to  the 
south.  This  would  furnish  a  good  spot  for  billiards, 
if  you  can  contrive  a  respectable  stairway  down  from 
the  hall ;  and  if  the  billiard-room  opens  out  west- 
wardly  into  a  special  conservatory,  where  one  can 
smoke  his  cigar  to  kill  the  red  spiders  (or  green  ones, 
I  forget  which),  all  the  better. 

"  What  on  earth  you  will  do  with  the  north  side 
of  the  house  under  this  ruling  of  windows  and  wants, 
I  don't  know.  I  should  say  a  long  picture-gallery, 
if  I  had  pictures.  What  if  it  were  to  be  a  blank 
wall  with  ivies  growing  over  it  ?  But  then  there's 


288  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  kitchen  and  laundry,  which  the  mistress  insists 
must  have  either  western  or  eastern  light — if  not 
both.  Treat  the  problem  as  you  will,  keeping  in 
mind  the  coveted  exposures — the  wish  to  use  up 
some  of  my  raw  material  in  the  shape  of  rocks,  and 
withal,  the  desire  not  to  make  the  affair  too  burden- 
somely  expensive. 

"P.  S. — Mrs.  Urban  wishes  a  boudoir,  which 
must  have  a  south  look-out  too,  and  mind — no  base- 
ment kitchen. 

"P.  S. — Again.  Mrs.  U.  says  the  laundry 
might  be  in  the  basement,  but  not  near  the  billiard- 
room,  and  the  dairy  must  be  convenient  and  cool,  and 
the  kitchen  must  not  be  too  far  from  the  dining-room, 
and  no  dumb-waiters  ;  and  it  would  be  very  nice  to 
have  a  veranda  for  flowers,  by  the  dining-room,  and 
not  to  forget  the  sunny  bed-room. 

"  She  wishes  a  large  hall,  and  well  lighted,  and 
servants'  stairs  apart,  and  hopes  you'll  place  the  front 
door  in  a  protected  situation ;  (south  side,  if  possi- 
ble.) And  a  good  large  China  closet  and  butler's 
room,  very  well  lighted  ;  and  bath-room  convenient, 
on  the  first  floor." 

Fortunately  a  considerable  slope  of  the  land  to 
the  west  admitted  of  the  establishment  of  laundry  and 
of  larder  (adjoining)  in  the  basement  of  the  kitchen 
extension,  and  also  of  a  roomy  billiard-room  with 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     289 

south  frontage,  and  opening  westward  upon  the  desired 
conservatory. 


Of  the  floor  immediately  above,  and  upon  the 

ground  level  as  one  approaches  the  place  from  the 
13 


290  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

east,  I  give  a  rough  draft,  showing  the  general  dispo- 
sition of  the  rooms. 

By  this  it  will  be  seen  that  every  considerable 
apartment,  including  even  the  boudoir,  has  a  southern 
exposure.  I  give  no  drawing  of  any  ground -plan, 
save  that  of  the  first  floor,  and  supplement  it  only  by 
a  rude  perspective  sketch  of  the  building,  in  which 
I  have  endeavored  to  incorporate  some  of  the  hints 
already  given  with  respect  to  the  use  of  homely  ma- 
terials and  the  intermingling  of  a  timber  framework 
with  country  masonry.  One  great  advantage  of  this 
humble  style  lies  in  the  fact,  that  it  permits  of  the 
attachment  of  many  of  the  rural  offices  (as,  for 
instance,  the  ice-house  and  work-room  above,  and  con- 
tiguous dairy)  to  the  main  building,  without  offensive 
contrast, — at  the  same  time  contributing  to  the 
general  effect  of  the  mass  of  building.  Mass  counts 
for  a  great  deal  in  a  country  house  and  in  landscape  ; 
— most  of  all  irregular  mass — which  can  be  compassed 
(economy  considered)  only  by  associating  some  of  the 
exterior  offices  of  a  rural  home  with  the  home  itself. 
All  this,  the  rough  material,  and  the  simple  method 
of  combining  timber  framework  with  a  rude  tilling- 
in  of  masonry,  permits  and  invites. 

Observe  that  the  tall,  tower-like  building  on  the 
right  of  the  view  requires  no  expensive  interior  fin- 
ish; it  covers  offices  which  must  be  provided  in 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UN  TR  Y  I/O  USE.     29 1 

some  form.     By  attachment  to  the  main  structure  it 
gives  dignity  and  extent  j  and  it  it  be  covered  with 


292  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

graceful,  climbing  plants,  it  adds  wonderfully  to  the 
general  effect. 

The  outline  and  the  tints  of  a  country  house,  as 
I  have  already  urged,  are  the  great  things  to  be  reck- 
oned, when  we  rate  landscape  effects.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  the  finesse  and  precision  of  the  city  architect 
will  tell  no  story  upon  a  brook  side,  or  on  such  slope  of 
land  as  Mr.  Urban  has  chosen  for  his  site.  Effective 
building  of  a  country  house  wants  a  picture-maker  as 
much  as  architect.  First,  and  chiefest  of  all,  every  con- 
venience must  be  supplied — all  sunny  exposure  made 
available — all  juxta-positions  reconciled — all  home- 
like qualities  guarded.  Next,  the  mass  of  building 

must  tally  with  the  landscape,  and  illustrate  it  with 

• 

a  rich,  good  color  of  home.  Outline  must  not  be 
monotonous  or  heavy,  but  varied  and  piquant :  roofs 
must  gleam  a  welcome,  porches  promise  hospitality, 
and  chimney-tops,  showing  pennants  of  smoke, 
lift  up  standing  invitations. 

Conclusion. 

HAVING  thus  presented — as  it  were,  by  turn  of 
kaleidoscope  and  probably  by  wearisome  re- 
petition— all  the  shades  and  outlines  of  the  fifty-acre 
purchase  which  my  friend  Urban  has  had  in  mind,  I 
cannot  close  without  a  summing  up. 


MR.  URSA  N  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     293 

All  that  I  have  laid  down  in  way  of  design, 
whether  for  walks,  plantations,  or  country-house,  has 
been  intended  for  suggestion  rather  than  literal  ful- 
filment. Every  locality  must  have  its  own  interpreta- 
tion at  the  hands  of  the  artist.  Method  must  vary — 
not  only  as  the  hills  and  the  slopes  vary,  but  as  the 
wants  and  the  tastes  of  the  occupant  vary. 

There  are  farms  I  know,  unctuous  with  an  accu- 
mulated fertility,  and  with  right  lines  running  athwart 
their  slopes,  which  might  be  converted  into  charming 
park-lands,  with  every  grass-field  rounded  into  a 
lawn ;  but,  to  my  eye,  they  would  gain  nothing,  if  in 
this  conversion  the  economic  interests  of  the  holder 
were  ignored.  Land  does  its  best  service  where  it 
best  feeds  our  human  wants :  not  necessarily  gross 
wants,  but  all  wants, — fine  as  well  as  gross. 

I  have  endeavored  to  demonstrate  that  economic 
management  need  not  necessarily  offend  against  the 
rulings  of  good  taste.  I  feel  sure  that  the  highest 
beauty  of  landscape  will  ultimately  bring  no  loss ; 
and  I  forecast  confidently  the  time — perhaps  a  cen- 
tury hence — when  all  the  beauties  and  all  the  econo- 
mies and  all  the  humanities  will  be  in  leash. 

Again,  a  country  home  will  not  yield  its  largest 
enjoyments  to  any  who  adopt  it  in  virtue  of  a  mere 
whim  ;  there  must  be  love  ;  and  with  love,  patience  ; 
and  with  patience,  trust.  This  mistress  who  wears 


294  OUT-OF-TOWN  PLACES. 

the  golden  daffodils  in  her  hair,  and  the  sweet  violets 
at  her  girdle,  and  heaps  her  lap  eveiy  autumn  time 
with  fruit,  must  be  conciliated,  and  humored,  and 
rewarded,  and  flattered,  and  caressed.  She  resents 
capricious  and  fitful  attentions — like  a  woman ;  re- 
ceiving them  smilingly,  and  sulking  when  they  are 
done. 

I  would  not  counsel  any  man  to  think  of  a  home 
in  the  country,  whose  heart  does  not  leap  when  he 
sees  the  first  grass-tips  lifting  in  the  city  court-yards, 
and  the  boughs  of  the  Forsythia  adrip  with  their 
golden  censers.  Many  a  man  mistakes  a  certain 
pleasurable  association  of  his  boyish  days  with  the 
country,  for  an  earnest  love  ;  it  may  well  be  only  a 
sentiment  which  will  wilt  with  the  scorching  heats 
of  August,  and  die  utterly  when  the  frosts  nip  the 
verdure  of  the  year. 

A  man  may  take  his  business  to  the  country — 
whether  as  manufacturer,  stock-breeder,  tobacco-grow- 
er— and  decorate  his  business  with  country  charms ; 
but  the  retired  citizen  cannot  go  there,  and  find  en- 
joyment, except  he  have  an  ineradicable  love  for  such 
charms — except  he  can  read  lovingly  such  books  as 
those  of  Walton,  or  White  of  Selborne. 

In  closing,  I  filch  from  Walton's  pages  a  verse 
by  that  "excellent  preacher  and  angler,"  Phineas 
Fletcher;  there  is  a  heavy  British  mildew  on  the 


MR.  URBAN  AND  A  CO  UNTR  Y  HO  USE.     295 

lines ;  and  the  countryman  bepraised  by  the  poet 
would  not  surely  make  a  very  active  railway-director ; 
and  yet  the  mouldy  old  British  portrait  will  not  serve 
badly  as  a  pendant  to  these  Rural  Studies  : — 

No  empty  hopes,  no  courtly  fears  him  fright, 
No  begging  wants  his  middle  fortune  bite, 
But  sweet  content  exiles  both  misery  and  spite. 

His  certain  life,  that  never  can  deceive  him, 
Is  full  of  thousand  sweets,  and  rich  content ; 

The  smooth-leaved  beeches  in  the  field  receive  him 
With  coolest  shade,  till  noontide's  heat  be  spent : 
His  life  is  neither  tossed  in  boisterous  seas, 
Or  the  vexatious  world,  or  lost  in  slothful  ease : 
Pleased,  and  full  blest  he  lives,  when  he  his  God  can  please. 


THE   END. 


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